Congratulations! Its Twins!
by drey'auc475
Summary: What could have happened if Sheppard had a twin sibling who also had the Ancient gene, and also went to Atlantis with Dr. Weir’s expedition? Rated T for some language.
1. Fragile Balance

**Title:** Congratulations! It's Twins!  
**Author:** Drey'auc475  
**STARGATE: ATLATIS  
****Rating:** T for content and language  
**Spoilers:** Season 7 of _SG-1 _and seasons 1-5 of _Atlantis  
_**Genre: **General/Friendship/Angst/Missing Scene  
**Setting/Season:** _Atlantis_ from its discovery.  
**Summary:** What could have happened if Sheppard had a twin sibling who also had the Ancient gene, and also went to Atlantis with Dr. Weir's expedition?  
**A/N:** I wrote this story to get a little into Sheppard's back story as well as add a new character for the team to interact with. Though she is Sheppard's twin sister, she is still quite different to John in many ways. Most of the stories/chapters will be episode tags and missing scenes. Enjoy.  
**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I don't own SGA (though I'd love to be a part of it) and all of the characters belong to MGM. Except Sierra, of course – she's mine.

-----Chapter 1 – Fragile Balance------  
Captain Sierra Sheppard sat in the SGC commissary, eating a not-so-fresh-made turkey sandwich. She had just come back from a briefing on a new fighter-plane that had been developed by the Air Force, using alien technology. She had no idea what she was getting into when her boss handed her the reassignment papers. From the look on his face though, and the way he locked the door when she entered, had originally made her think of something to secret. Though, flying alien-based fighter planes was definitely not the first thing that came to mind.

The first two days of her reassignment had involved signing a non-disclosure agreement, sitting with General Hammond, the CO of the SGC, and watching tapes and footage of offworld missions, getting the low-down from Colonel Reynolds about what to expect on a mission and what and who the bad guys were. They had also told her, and twenty other mid-ranking commissioners like herself, a little about the Stargate though they weren't permitted to go through it yet. But that was ok; she was still getting used to the fact that they weren't as alone in the universe as they had all assumed they were and she wasn't sure that she was entirely ready for that milestone yet.

In front of Sierra currently was the mission briefing that she had received from Major Carter earlier that day. Admittedly, it did say that Colonel O'Neill was the one who had flown the X-302 test missions and the mission that involved them using the hyper-drive to bypass the shields on a Goa'uld mothership. Sierra wondered if she had pronounced that right.

Anyway, Major Carter had taken that briefing to begin with, but later there had been a disturbance outside the briefing room, and a fifteen-year-old kid was permitted into the room claiming to be Colonel O'Neill. The pilots, including Sierra, had thought it was a joke, but when they realized that it really _was_ the colonel, they had all paid a lot more attention. It was quite a shock to Sierra who was still getting used to the place; especially when the control room technician kept calling out "Unscheduled Offworld Activation" over the PA system. It always made her jump when those klaxons went off. She was almost always expecting some funky, tentacle-covered alien to burst out of the air-ducts.

The X-302 was indeed an impressive ship, even though the hyper-drive part of the equation had been removed due to continual failure in the power source. Even though Sierra wasn't a scientist or an astrophysicist, she had spent enough time with Professor Monroe at the Academy to understand that the power requirements for creating that kind of a phenomenon were enormous.

Sierra was skimming through the specs of the X-302 and noticed the G-forces it exceeded and briefly wondered how she could improve her odds in achieving maximum velocity. She glanced about her briefly, making sure that the commissary was fairly deserted, and pulled out a pen and began to scribble on her napkin. A few quick mathematic equations later, and Sierra had her answer. She didn't have much time to contemplate it though, because she was interrupted by one of the scientists sitting down across from her.

Sierra quickly shoved the napkin under her mission briefing and tucked her pen in her top pocket. She glanced up to see that it was one of the astrophysicists that had joined her. Dr. Lee, she thought his name was.

This small, slightly chunky, though genuinely kind, man tried to engage her in conversation. But there were currently quite a few things on her mind, so it was hard for her to get into the swing of it. She was normally quite a talkative person, but she was distracted. She waited for a polite period of time, before gathering her things and bidding the scientist good afternoon.

Sierra was about two feet outside the door to the commissary when she heard it clatter behind her. A second later, there was a firm hand on her elbow and the short scientist shouldered his way up beside her. Sierra stopped and blinked at him, wondering what could have possibly sent him barreling out here like this. She then saw that he clutched the scribbled-on napkin in his hand. She must have dropped it without realizing.

_Oh great_, she thought to herself.

"Did you do this?" the scientist demanded, causing an irrational flush of irritation in Sierra.

"What, is it against regs to write on napkins, now?" she said, quite rudely. She immediately regretted her harsh words, because she knew that this man was quite nice.

"What? Oh, no," he started, hardly fazed. "I was just wondering... this bit of writing here..." The man was pointing to Sierra's messy scribble. "Is this your work?"

_Ah man_, Sierra thought and winced inwardly. Having someone recognize her mathematical skills here, was the last thing she wanted. All she wanted to do was to fly X-302s, not sit endlessly for hours staring at equations that she could have done when she was 12-years-old.

"Depends," she said. "How important is it that I say 'yes'?"

"Well," the scientist said as he examined the writing again. "The algorithms are a bit unorthodox, and I've never seen this symbol before..."

"That's one of my own invention," Sierra said. "It's shorthand for e=mc2. I used to teach Advanced Math at the Air Force Academy until recently."

_Why did I just tell him that?_ Sierra shouted inside her head. Inwardly, she cringed again. She was getting slack.

"Really?" the man questioned. "Well, I'm Doctor Lee – Bill. And you are…?"

"Captain Sierra Sheppard, _pilot_," she said, annunciating the last word, as she took his outstretched hand. He winced and withdrew his hand. She did tend to have quite a strong handshake. It came from growing up with two brothers.

She smiled apologetically at him and he waved it off. Sierra soon realized that he was all business.

"There's something I'd like you to see," he said motioning for her to follow. He led her along the hall and into the lift. He inserted his security pass and punched the button for the fourteenth floor. Soon the lift arrived and they stepped out into a hall that was identical to the one they just left. Sierra had only been in the SGC for three days and was still getting used to the place, and knew that if it wasn't for the three-foot numbers on the elevator doors, then she would have been completely lost. Each floor looked _exactly_ the same.

Dr. Lee led her down the hall, which wound its way around the place, past rooms and labs. They soon came across an open lab door, into which Dr. Lee stuck his head.

He spoke a few words with the occupant of the lab and a few seconds later, Major Carter emerged. Sierra was startled by the major's sudden appearance and snapped to attention.

"Oh, at ease, captain," the other woman said gently. Dr. Lee handed Carter the napkin that Sierra had been writing on and Sierra struggled not to groan. She did love doing Math problems and even teaching it, but to have her work recognized like this? In Sierra's experience, all it caused was trouble.

The major glanced at the napkin as Dr. Lee told her what Sierra had told him. Carter nodded and seemed impressed.

"I was thinking," Dr. Lee said quietly, "that maybe… you know, she could help us out."

_Oh, it starts_, Sierra thought._ Next thing I know, I'll be getting my own lab and research grants –_

"Sounds alright to me, Bill," Carter said, and Sierra cringed inwardly. "How are you with velocity and speed?" the older woman asked.

Sierra blinked, slightly startled. "It's my favourite, ma'am," she replied. She laughed lightly. "That's kinda why I became a pilot." Carter nodded understandingly.

"This way." The major led their small group further down the hall and used her access card to open another one of the labs. Inside stood several whiteboards covered in scribbled equations and two blackboards. Computer panels lined the walls, covered in flashing lights. In the center of the room was a steel-topped table scattered with laptops, notebooks, pens and coffee cups. The major and the doctor motioned to the boards.

Sierra was immediately intrigued and wandered over to them, scanning the data quickly.

"This is propulsion," she stated.

"Yes," Major Carter said. "We've been trying to optimize the propulsion capacity of the X-303 – the _Prometheus_. Using this series of calculations, we've been trying to reprogram the sub-light engines to reach their maximum potential, but our equations have been coming up short." Sierra nodded.

"And judging from your work here," Dr. Lee said, pointing to the napkin that he had passed to Carter in the hall, "I think you might know where we're getting it wrong."

Sierra nodded again, her eyes glued to the board before her. She came across a section of the equation that was unfamiliar to her.

"What's this, ma'am?" Sierra asked.

The major stepped closer to the board. "Oh, that's a part of an equation that Colonel O'Neill wrote some time ago." Sierra raised an eyebrow at her. She didn't know the colonel very well, but Sierra was sure that he was not a mathematical genius. That was her twin brother.

"Colonel O'Neill had all the knowledge of the incredibly advanced race that built the Stargates downloaded into his brain at the time," the major explained at Sierra's look. "Here, this is it."

On the blackboard that Carter was pointing to, Sierra saw that it was covered in an untidy scrawl forming mathematical equations that were indeed complex. A piece of paper had also been tacked to the top of the board with '10=8' printed on it.

Sierra glanced at the equation, the numbers falling out into formation in her mind's eye, like cadets in roll-call. As she looked at the board, the equation spilled into order, forming the solution. "This is base 8 math," Sierra said. "For determining the position of objects in space due to stellar drift."

"Yep," Dr. Lee and Carter said at the same time. Dr. Lee looked astounded and Major Carter looked impressed. Sierra smiled sheepishly at them.

"I studied a bit of your work at the Academy… as a past-time." She said to the major. At the USAFA, Major Samantha Carter was a legend in the area of astrophysics. "Monroe talks about you all the time." Carter laughed lightly and Sierra turned back to the other boards. With this new information now in mind, Sierra was able to work through the equation on the board. Once again the numbers formed into solutions in her mind.

-----XXX-----

Sierra stepped back into the briefing room on Level 19, and took her previous seat. She had spent the last hour and a half in that lab with Major Carter and Dr Lee, talking over algorithms and mathematics. They would probably still be there if Sierra hadn't glanced at her watch and noticed what time it was.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one who was running late. Many of the other pilots were there, as was the younger, diminutive version of Colonel O'Neill, engaged in conversation with the highest ranking officer in the room, Major Mitchell. When the rest of the pilots had arrived, O'Neill stood at the podium.

"OK," he started, his voice squeaking slightly. He coughed into his hand and lifted a sheet of paper in front of him. "Right, so... As y'all know, you kids are to be the first batch of pilots to fly the X-302s." It seemed a bit strange for Sierra to hear the colonel call them all 'kids' when he looked barely legal himself.

"Now, I'm gonna read out the list of pilots and co-pilots. These pairs are fixed, chosen by myself and General Hammond, and paired this way as a combination of the individual's skills and talents." He coughed into his hand again.

"Pierce and Gander," he started as the names of the first pair of pilots. Sierra's heart pace quickened slightly, excitement flooding her system. She was going to fly again!

"Patterson and Bree; Redmond and Vince; Tander and Banks; Stevenson and Connor; Mitchell and Sheppard; Moffit and Warner, Ash and Jones, Green and Linderman, Gibbs and Wills. OK? Great."

Sierra smiled. She was co-piloting with the highest ranking officer in the new squadron. Major Cameron Mitchell was a very skilled pilot and a fine officer. Mitchell was a legend amongst the younger cadets at the Academy, his piloting and leadership skills earning him a high standing amongst the high-ranking officers at the Academy. Also, her old roommate and best friend, Bryce Ferguson, had served with him. Bryce had also risked his life to save him a few years ago. Sierra had actually bumped into the major as he came out of Bryce's hospital room after the incident that put him in the hospital. Sierra wondered if he would recognize her.

All in all, it was exciting the prospect of being in the air again. Sure, she had once piloted her own plane in the Gulf War with her brother as their squadron leader, but that had been a long time ago. And now she was getting up there again. It didn't really matter to her that she wasn't going to get her own plane, but then again she _was _only a captain.

And the fact that she was flying with a well decorated officer like Cameron Mitchell… well, it was all much more than she had been led to believe.

Still, thoughts that had plagued her since the short drive from Denver to Colorado Springs now came to the foreground again. Her brother, John, was at the top of the list; in all right and fairness, he should be the one in her seat right now. He was the one that wanted so badly to fly. He was the skilled pilot and she was just the school teacher. She had asked why Colonel Kerrigan had picked her for this job when there were so many others better suited. He had told her that this was her best opportunity for advancement. Sierra had argued that she was happier teaching and that she could name a number of other candidates that deserved the posting. Of course at the time, she had no idea that the new posting involved going to other planets.

The first thing she did after handing her class over to one of the other professors was pull out her cell and call her brother. As she expected, she got his answering service, but didn't really want to leave a message. Instead she called her dad. At first they talked about the weather and his bad knee whilst hers began to ache in sympathy. She soon turned the conversation to her new job opportunity. Sierra confessed to him that John deserved the job more than she did but Dad had never gotten over his eldest son's rebellious behavior. He said that she deserved it just as much as he did, if not more. Sierra, never wanting to get on her father's bad side, had agreed verbally with him, but inside, she was thinking differently.

Sierra wondered if John's actions were really to blame for what was happening to his life. If he hadn't disobeyed that order in Afghanistan, would he be sitting beside her now? Would they be close, like they had been in High School and collage?

Sierra was jolted out of her train of thought, when the klaxons began to flash and the standard announcement came over the PA.

"Ah," the colonel said. "Um, dismissed… until tomorrow, 09:00 hours." And with that, the 47-year old colonel trapped in a 15-year-old body dashed out of the room. Sierra sighed, and gathered her things. She wanted to take a shower before she went over her briefing notes. It was then that she looked down at her page and noticed that she hadn't taken many notes at all. She had been off in her own little world for a good deal of the lecture and had no idea what it had been about.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. She did always tend to have a small attention span. It's not that the lecture wasn't interesting, and she was ashamed to admit that the new form of the colonel wasn't pleasing to look at (she did, however, prefer older guys), but ever since she had taken the Blue Phoenix assignment, she'd had a lot on her mind.

Just as she was standing to leave, a hand was shoved in her face, palm out. She glanced at it, and then glanced up at the person who owned it. She immediately straightened when she saw that it belonged to Major Mitchell. She raised her hand to salute him, but he stopped her mid-way.

"Oh, no, please. There's no need. Cameron Mitchell," he said extending his hand again. Sierra shook it cautiously, sure that she was meant to be placing that hand near her temple.

"Captain Sheppard, sir," she said.

"Sierra, right?" the major interrupted.

Sierra hesitated, slightly startled by this officer. Ok, so she had heard that he was a very casual soldier, but this was a little bit of a surprise.

"Look," he said. "If we're gonna be flyin' together, we gotta be able to trust the other. And I think that knowin' the other's first name is a good start." Sierra detected a bit of a southern 'twang' in his accent and was intrigued. There were two main things she liked about a man: the uniform and the accent.

"Are you from Texas, sir?" she asked, always one to speak her mind.

"Nope," he replied. "Kansas. Little town called Auburn"

"Right," she said, nodding.

"Where d'you hail from?" he asked.

"California originally; my mom was a professional singer from LA and my dad's a bit of an entrepreneur. Needless to say we move around a lot."

"I'd love to hear more about that."

Sierra smiled. "Sure."

At that moment one of the officers touched them on their shoulders. It was Major Banks, one of the other co-pilots.

"Hey, some of us are goin' into town tonight for drinks," he said. "You guys wanna join us?"

Sierra and Mitchell shared a look before agreeing. Several of them remained in the room for a little while, chatting, sharing opinions, and swapping stories of their previous assignments.

Eventually Sierra left the other officers and headed to the woman's locker room. She took a shower, and headed up a few levels to her temporary quarters with some time left over to peruse over the report of the X-302. It was bordering on 18:30 hours when she stopped and dressed in her civvies. She met Mitchell, Banks and some of the other officers at the elevator and together they all headed to the surface.

-----XXX-----


	2. Tagrea

Hi all, and thanks for the reviews. Also, to all the people who added this story (and me) to their alerts.

To **jasminesmommy**, at the moment, I'm just creating a bit of back story for the character, but not to worry, there will be plenty of John Sheppard to come!

To **bailey1ak**, I'm so glad you are liking it. Yes, I wanted to explore that topic, of if Sheppard had a sister, how would they interact? What kind of person would she be? Would she be very similar or the complete opposite? But I mostly wanted to explore their relationship and backstory.

**Here's the next chapter, guys. I love to hear your feedback. Enjoy!**

--Chapter 2 – Tagrea--

Sierra stared apprehensively at the two-storey, stone ring before her, with its shimmering, blue puddle casting eerie shadows around the room. She reached a hand out to dip it into the watery surface; it was a strange sensation, like dipping her fingers into a vat of cold oil.

"Come on, Sheppard," came a voice behind her, jolting her out of her revere of the wormhole. "This end ain't exactly the lightest."

Sierra glanced back at Jones who was holding one end of the crate they had to transport to Tagrea. The rest of the squad had gone through already, all of them carrying various crates of parts and supplies the _Prometheus _and her crew needed. Jones currently stood struggling with the crate, and an impatient look on his face that screamed "Get a move on or I'll push you through the damn 'gate!" she looked up at General Hammond in the control room, who merely nodded to her. Sierra raised her hand in a wave before turning back to the Gate and plunging head first through the puddle.

She was instantly hit with the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. She could feel the sensation of being torn molecule from molecule, flung across the vastness of space and then lumped back together, all in the space of a few milliseconds; and there was no time for her to get Goosebumps or throw up.

Sierra stepped out of the wormhole in a completely different building than the one she had left. She paused for a moment to catch her breath.

The moment, however, was short lived. Sierra had not expected to exit the wormhole on a set of steps. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing. As Jones exited the wormhole, her sudden difference in altitude caused the contents at the heavy end of the crate to shift towards Sierra's end. The extra weight forced her to lunge forward several feet, pulling the crate and Jones with her. They all ended up in a heap on the polished stone floor of a vast hall, tools, parts and limbs everywhere.

"Careful!" screeched a high-pitched, irritating, male voice. Rubber soled shoes squeaked across the marble floor as Sierra and Jones started to picked themselves up off the floor. The two officers set the crate right again and, whist rubbing various bruised body parts, began collecting the tools and parts that had gotten scattered around the hall.

The man stood over Sierra. "Do be more careful," he whined. "You will scratch the floors of our Ancestor's Hall of Honors! This hall holds the history of our people!"

"So it's a museum," Sierra remarked, glancing up at the vaulted ceiling. The sounds of the man's shoes and Jones dropping all the tools back into the crate echoed through the hall.

"It is not _just _a museum!" cried the man, his voice rising in pitch. "It is all we have left of our past! It is the archive of who we are as a people! As a society!"

"Look, we're sorry, OK?" Sierra almost shouted, the irritating man testing her temper. She opened her mouth again to speak the first thing that came to her mind (which wouldn't have been very pleasant) when she saw Major Carter walking towards them with their new CO, Colonel Ronson, and shut her mouth instead. Across the hall, behind them, Sierra saw the rest of their squad head through a doorway that lead to the foyer. Mitchell stood by the doorway, directing the officers to the exit. He almost laughed and shook his head at them. Sierra sighed. Hell of a way to make an impression.

The colonel and the major came level with the irksome man and Sierra and Jones snapped to attention.

"You're not hindering our repairs," Colonel Ronson said in his calm manner. "Are you, Eros?"

Eros frowned, folding his arms with a grumble. "The sooner you and your people are done bringing more pieces for your craft, the sooner my museum will get back to normal." The man emitted a high-pitched huff and stomped off towards the opposite end of the hall.

The colonel nodded to Sierra and Jones, who relaxed again and continued packing the parts back into the crate. When all the pieces had been picked up, they followed Ronson and Carter into the foyer and out onto the street of an alien city.

City buildings towered above them and Sierra couldn't help but gaze in wonder as they loaded the crates onto a motorcade and drove through the centre of the city. The city structure reminded Sierra of New York fifty years ago. The architecture was amazingly old fashioned, but also original. Driving through these streets took her back to the time when her mother had taken her and her brothers to visit an aunt in Kansas City.

Before long, they had reached an industrial area of the city. The high-rises became less frequent and office blocks merged into apartment buildings. Several miles later, the motorcade came to what Sierra could only describe as an air-field. Numerous hangers lined one side of the large, mostly empty lot, and further down they gave way to what Sierra assumed was a terminal. It appeared like the Tagreans were still at their blimp stage of aeronautical development. A number of the over-sized hot-air balloons sat outside the terminal awaiting passengers to take them to various other destinations around the continent.

The motorcade veered off to the left towards a restricted area. They passed through a large set of gates and stopped in front of a massive hanger; the doors themselves had to be ten stories high.

"Alright," called Colonel Ronson, "Let's get these parts unloaded and onto the ship."

"Ship?" Sierra said to Mitchell. "I don't see a ship."

The major just gave her a crooked grin and gestured for her to take one end of a crate while he took the other. Their small procession of officers and machine parts made its way to a smaller door to the right of the much larger ones. A staff sergeant stood at attention on the outside of the door and allowed them in.

It was what was inside the hanger that really took Sierra's breath away. She had seen pictures of the _Prometheus _during briefings and lectures, but they had hardly prepared her for the sight of the X-303. It stood nearly as tall as the doors (which was good, at least it would fit out of them) and was almost a city block long. Scaffolding and cranes surrounded the ship, sparks falling harmlessly to the concrete floor. The din was appalling.

At least Sierra wasn't the only one ogling the ship. Jones, Ash and Gibbs had also stopped in their tracks and were staring, mouths agape, at the starship. Banks and Green were pinching each other to be sure what they were seeing was real.

"Come on, guys," Mitchell said, jolting the squad out of their ogling. "This ship ain't gonna fix itself."

--XXX--

The remainder of the repairs took about a month to fully complete. In the mean time, the squadron took their chance to learn all they could about the F-302. When it came to flying the hybrid fighter, lectures and 3D renders could only show them so much. The squadron spent every hour they could flying the fighters in Tagrea's atmosphere. They ran simulations and flew in various formations, building teamwork bonds and learning the other pilots' abilities. All the pilots were the best in the Force; which was why they had all been chosen for the Blue Phoenix mission.

But none were more skilled than Mitchell. Sierra felt incredibly honored to be flying with a pilot like Mitchell. He handled every simulation with ease and confidence, and handled the stick with a skill that Sierra had seen in only one other person: John. When Sierra used to watch her brother fly a chopper, she used to wish she could be as confident and as skilled as he was. Similar feelings came to her as she sat in the co-pilot seat and called her readings to Mitchell.

In her off-time, Sierra would hang out with the other pilots in the barracks that sat next to the hanger. Every third night Warner and Patterson would hold a poker tournament in the Mess hall after lights out. The majors and the colonel were bunked in a separate barracks on the other side of the hanger, so there was no worry of being caught. They got two to a bathroom even. In their barracks however, they were cramped in four to a room with a communal bathroom at the end of the building. There were two other women on the squadron and, thankfully, Sierra had been bunked with them with one bunk to spare.

The other two women on the squad were Lieutenant Carrie Stevenson and Captain Yuko Gander. Lt. Stevenson was a young, dark skinned, fiery, Chicago-born girl and Capt. Gander was part-Korean, her mother a refugee that came over during the war. The three of them struck up a friendship and a pact to help each other out in this male-dominated field.

On the days that the weather was too bad for flying, they were required to do something productive. Sierra chose to learn as much as she could about the ship as possible. She stood over the technicians shoulders as they tweaked the systems, she handed the engineers their tools as they maintained the engines, and even offered to help Carter as she made modifications to the ship. She was surprised when the major welcomed her help.

Sierra also asked those she watched if she could learn about some of the things they were repairing. The technicians merely waved her away and told her she was distracting them, the engineers blew her off, telling her that it was all too complicated for her understand, while Carter was the only one who agreed to teach her. Sierra would ask her about each of the crystals in the interface panels and Carter would explain their functions. Soon, Sierra knew enough to know which crystals to move and swap when the major would say that they need to bypass some of the secondary systems.

And finally the repairs were finished. Colonel Ronson decided that it was something to celebrate. The day they finished, the colonel got some of the sergeants to put up some trestle tables directly under the _Prometheus_ and the staff from the Mess gave them a spread like something Sierra had seen at a Bar Mitzvah or her cousins wedding. There was food, beer and pretzels, a lot of laughter and jokes not to mention one small food fight.

As the sun began to set, Sierra was sipping a beer, talking to Carter and Mitchell about their collage days when Carrie tapped Sierra on the shoulder. Carrie had been looking for Yuko for the last twenty minutes. Apparently Yuko had gone to get the two of them drinks and never came back.

The four of them looked all around the hanger and even in both the barracks buildings. Half an hour later they had searched the surrounding buildings but still hadn't found the young captain. Carter and Ronson organized a search of the _Prometheus_ while a quick head count and roll-call revealed that one other crew member was missing as well.

While Carter and Ronson searched the ship, Sierra joined Mitchell in searching outside the buildings and the surrounding area. As Sierra rounded the back of the Tagreans version of a refueling station, the light from her torch fell on a figure curled up between the buildings. She crouched over the figure, the flashlight beam falling on their face. It was the other missing crew member. Sierra called out to Mitchell as she gently rolled him onto his back. _Capt. Forbes_ was the name on his overalls. From what Sierra could remember he was an engineer.

"Who is it?" Mitchell asked as he knelt beside her.

"Forbes," she replied. Sierra shone her torch down the alley. "But no sign of Gander."

"Is he OK?" Mitchell asked as Forbes groaned and groggily opened his eyes.

"Looks like he took quite a hit on the head," Sierra said. There was blood on his shirt and in his sandy blonde hair.

"What happened, Forbes?" Mitchell asked as they helped the engineer sit up. "Where's Gander?"

"They took her," he mumbled. "Three guys jumped us. They were wearin' black and ... their faces were covered. They took her," he moaned. "They took Yuko."

Mitchell pulled out his radio and reported what Forbes had told them to Colonel Ronson. Sierra smelt what she identified as fresh paint and shone her torch on the corrugated iron wall above her head. A string of what Sierra could only guess were letters had been roughly printed on the metal in black paint. Sierra drew Mitchell's attention to it and he also reported this to Ronson. Sierra just made out Ronson's order to pursue with caution. Pulling out his sidearm, Mitchell turned to order Sierra to stay with Forbes, only to find her standing ready, her own sidearm drawn.

"There's no way I'm staying out of this, Sir," Sierra said. "She's my friend."

Mitchell rolled his eyes and took the lead. "Sheppard, Remind me to dock your holiday pay."

"Yes, Sir."

They moved silently down the alley, checking for any signs of Yuko and her abductors. Their flashlights cut through the dark, revealing rusted pieces of scrap metal, discarded paper bags and pieces of plastic. To Sierra it looked like the Tagreans were well on their way to becoming just like Earth.

Mitchell's radio crackled, and Colonel Ronson's voice floated through the alleyway.

"_Mitchell, I have just been informed that the men that attacked Forbes and Gander may be part of a movement that is protesting against our presence here on Tagrea_."

"So this could be some kind of retaliation against us?" Mitchell asked.

"_It's possible, but we're not ruling anything else out just yet_."

"Like what, Sir?"

"_Enemy nations on Tagrea, political opponents of Chairman Ashwan, civilian activists_," Carter said, her voice rebounding off the tin walls that surrounded them. Mitchell turned the volume on the radio down a little.

"Do we know where they would have taken Gander?" Mitchell asked as Sierra searched an empty store room. She shook her head at the major and they continued up the alley.

"_We have locked down the air-field – no one in or out. We're also using the sensors on the _Prometheus_ to try and isolate their life signs_."

"Yes, Sir."

"Ok, Mitchell, we've found them; we're sending back-up." Carter directed them to a warehouse on the northern side of the air-field. According to the Tagreans, the warehouse had been abandoned when the larger hangers for their commercial air-craft had been built on the other side of the field. Sierra and Mitchell quickly located a side door and entered the warehouse.

The side door opened onto a catwalk that crossed the vast span of the warehouse, suspended by wires from the ceiling. Mitchell refused to use the walk as he was afraid it might strain under their weight and alert the kidnappers to their presence.

Instead they made their way down to a mezzanine level, where they spied the kidnappers standing in the middle of the open space. There were three of them, and just like Forbes had said, all dressed in black. They all held weapons that were native to the Tagreans, but foreign to Sierra. Eventually she spied Yuko; she had been trussed up, her hands tied behind her back, her feet tied, and a gag stuffed in her mouth. The kidnappers didn't seem all that interested in her as they watched who Sierra assumed was their leader abuse someone on what looked like a primitive cell phone. The leader was demanding to know what was taking so long with their transport off the base.

Mitchell's radio sounded again, and he turned the volume down even further.

"We're in position, Mitchell," Carter whispered to them. "What's the situation?"

Mitchell described what they were seeing and advised against using smoke to confuse, as either side could easily trample on Gander. Carter voiced the affirmative and seconds later, Mitchell and Sierra dropped down from the mezzanine level to join the marines that were sweeping towards the kidnappers.

Thankfully they had the element of surprise on their side and they all immediately dropped their weapons and raised their hands. As soon as Carter and Mitchell had the kidnappers restrained, Sierra went to help her friend.

Yuko was a bit bruised, shaken but otherwise unharmed. She asked about Forbes and Sierra told her that he was fine. Nursing a twisted ankle, Sierra helped Yuko back to the main hanger.

--XXX--

Thankfully, the attack from the Kiroshi Movement (what the kidnappers had called themselves) hadn't delayed their launch at all. It took them two days to collect all their equipment and belongings that may have scattered around the air-field. The 302s were loaded back into the hanger and the Prometheus taxied to a runway in a similar fashion to a 747. She remained there as the crew boarded her and settled in for the journey home.

Sierra and some of the other newer crew members stood by the window in the Mess as the F-303 rose up through the Tagrean sky. Eventually, clouds gave way to stars and Sierra felt her heart swell with the prospect of new horizons.

--XXX--


	3. Grace

Hi guys. Sorry this chapter has taken so long, it took me longer to write than I thought. Anyway, it's done now, so I hope you like it.

I guess you've all heard, _Atlantis _is not going to continue after this latest season, as decided by MGM and Sci-Fi last week. It is a real tragedy that something that is loved by a lot of people around the world has to end, but I guess that's the way it goes. I, personally, can't wait for the movie they say they're going to finish it with. And I'm also looking forward to see what _Universe _will be like.

Mail-bag:  
To **jasminesmommy**, thanks. I'm trying to make her as close to John Sheppard as possible – they are twins after all.

To **baileylak**, thanks, as well. You're going to see more of Mitchell in this chapter and ones to follow, before we head to Atlantis.

To **Atlantis Ori Sheppard**, I'm glad you're into this story. Please keep reading.

And, now, on with the show!

--Chapter 3 – Grace--  
The journey home was long and tiresome. Twelve jumps in and out of hyperspace, not to mention several detours around Goa'uld occupied systems. That and the fact that Carter was getting them to detour to a near-by nebula. Sierra's chat with the major on the topic told her that it was different from most, but Carter had no idea what made it so. Sierra had to admit that she, herself, had gotten caught up in the major's excitement.

Every child dreamed of the stars. Her mom had taken her to the Mount Magantic Observatory outside of Montreal when she was fourteen and she loved it. Somehow the idea that she, Sierra, was an insignificant speck in comparison to the rest of the universe appealed to her. She hadn't gone through the necessary training to become an astronaut, but now she realized that she had made it to the stars without trying. At the observatory, her mom had whispered to her that if she wanted to go to the stars, all she had to do was try with all her heart. It was the last trip that her mom had ever taken her on.

Sierra shook her head to clear it. She sat in the quiet Mess hall, nursing a cup of coffee. The _Prometheus _and her crew worked on Earth's time zone and after being on Tagrea for a month, Sierra and some of the other crew members were still adjusting. Sierra's watch said it was 1700 hours while her body told her it was way too early in the morning. Vince and Ash, two of her fellow pilots, were also in the Mess. Vince was staring vacantly into the bottom of his coffee mug, likely to drown in it, while Ash's hand was about to slip as it held his head up.

Sighing an almighty sigh, Sierra returned her gaze to the view outside the ship. The streaked, blue glow of hyperspace flew past the window. Jump seven; only five more after this and they'd be home. Ronson had guaranteed them all a week's leave when they got their feet back on the ground again and all Sierra could think about was calling her brother and telling him all about what she had done since taking this new job. She sighed again, knowing that the Non-disclosure regs that surrounded all related to the Stargate prevented that.

Sierra had hoped that something miraculous might happen that would bring John into all of this. She had hoped that sharing a secret like this might bring them closer again. She struggled to remember what it was that had driven them apart. She couldn't recall whether it was between Eric and Keenan's deaths and John's divorce, or after, when John had stopped calling.

Glancing down at her coffee mug she saw that the milk had soured and the cup was as chilled as the metal table top. She glanced up again and witnessed the moment that the ship dropped out of hyperspace, the blue soup giving way to stars. Sierra sighed again before standing and taking her mug to the return chute, and heading to the gym to work off some of her frustration. She barely made it to the next corridor before battle stations were called.

It was the second time this trip that battle stations had been called. When battle stations were called, Sierra and the other pilots' duty was to immediately prepare for launch of the 302s. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she ran down the corridor with Vince and Ash towards the hanger. As she pulled her flight-suit on and grabbed her helmet from its rack, she recalled the last time she had felt the rush like this. Afghanistan; F-16s flying in formation; comm-chatter filling her headset; looking across to her left and seeing John giving her encouraging hand signals –

Mitchell brushed past her, jolting her out of her memories. She stood at attention with the rest of the pilots, as Mitchell started with his pre-mission briefing. Suddenly the ship jolted, throwing them all off balance. She thanked Banks as he steadied her and then had a sharp intake of breath as the colonel reported over the P.A. that they had lost engines. This report was soon followed by the signal to scramble the F-302s. Sierra climbed into the cockpit of their 302 and began her pre-fight checklist.

"Hurry it up, Sheppard," Mitchell ordered as his head came up over the side of the cockpit. He clambered into his seat in front of her.

"Yes, Sir. Engines online; weapons online; ejection system: check; comm. system: check. Navigation, inertial dampeners, targeting –"

Sierra suddenly froze, hand poised over the console, as brilliant white light dazzled her. Throwing her arms over her eyes to protect them, the light just got brighter and brighter –

And then there was nothing.

--XXX--

Sierra groaned as she returned to consciousness. She couldn't actually remember falling out of consciousness but she assumed it had something to do with the bright light. Remembering this, Sierra opened her eyes to see what damage had been done. Whiteness dazzled her and she scrunched them shut again, flinging an arm over her face to try and stop the brightness stinging her eyes. She rolled onto her side and pressed her face to the floor. It was cool and kind of rough, but strangely comfortable, like marine carpet.

"Hey, Sheppard? Sierra, you OK?" Squinting against the glare of what Sierra now determined to be white walls, she shifted her arm and saw Mitchell come into her field of vision. Concern was etched on his face as he gently helped Sierra sit against the wall.

"Ugh, what happened?"

Mitchell gave her a queer look. "You don't remember any of it?"

"Any of what?"

Mitchell quirked an eyebrow at her. "The examination?" Sierra's brows knotted in confusion. "The disembodied voices of aliens? The surgical implements and scanners?" Sierra's perplexed look became deeper. "You really don't remember, do you? That's a good thing, I guess. You must've been in a lot of pain."

"Pain?" Sierra's heart skipped a beat. "You mean like... torture?"

"I'm not sure," Mitchell replied as he sat next to her, close enough to be a friend, but still far enough away to still be her C.O. "It was like you were being electrocuted. You were screaming a lot."

Sierra's throat became parched, and a sweat broke out on her skin. Images flashed in her mind; a darkened room, strapped to a table, some kind of horrifying device hanging from the ceiling. And then a voice in the darkness, speaking in a language she couldn't understand. But as quickly as the images appeared, they faded like mist. Grasping at them only made sure they vanished entirely.

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her trance. Mitchell had moved closer to her, his knee brushing hers.

"You alright?"

She looked up into his pale blue eyes. "I remember… being terrified."

--XXX--

"There's gotta be a way out of here," Sierra said as she pushed at the walls of the box-like cell they had been placed in. For the last half hour, Sierra had been searching the room for a way out, despite Mitchell's assurances that they had already swept the room before they were taken to the exam room. There appeared to be no doors or windows; no way to get in or out. There appeared to no way for them to deliver food, either, even though there was a half-empty food tray waiting for her when she woke up. Sierra had picked at the food for about a minute before deciding that it definitely was not edible and then began searching the cell. So vigorous was her search that she had unzipped the top of her overalls, revealing a black singlet top, and tied the arms around her waist.

Apart from there being no door or windows, there were two blankets in one of the corners, a hollow, metal seat that they assumed had the function of a toilet, a small wash basin and a bench that wasn't even wide enough to sleep on. Mitchell had piled all their flight gear onto it after Sierra tripped over the pile it had previously been in one of the corners.

Sierra's frustration was building; she hated being locked up in this place. Also the fact that she couldn't remember what the aliens did to her and what had happened before they took them from the cell, made her feel uncomfortable. This, of course, translated into anger, which fuelled her frustration.

Sierra pushed at the wall again, hoping that a panel might give way. It didn't. She kicked the wall in frustration, but only succeeded in getting a sore foot; and this did little to soothe her temper. She kicked the wall again, and again, until Mitchell took her by the shoulders and pulled her away from the wall. He sat her down in the middle of the room then unlaced her combat boot and gently removed it.

"I don't think it's broken," Sierra said in a quiet voice, her surprise overriding her anger. She did flinch however when he bumped her big toe as he removed her sock. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, as if to say "I told you so". She shrugged and flashed him a quick smirk which he returned.

Mitchell gently flexed each of her toes, and then ran his fingers down the inner and outer sides of her foot, checking for bruising and sending shivers up her spine. She gasped and yanked her foot away as he brushed a sensitive spot.

"Tickles," she said softly and he smiled in apology. He let go of her foot and stood to lean against the wall she had been kicking. _Awkward moment number twenty-three_, Sierra thought as she pulled her sock and boot back on.

Another food tray arrived twenty minutes later, pulling them out of the silence that had fallen over them. They sat over the same tray and picked at the food they had been presented with. Mitchell made a remark about the food, comparing it to an animal by-product, that nearly made Sierra choke on the slop. Afterwards, the silence wasn't quite as awkward.

--XXX--

Sierra woke a few hours before Mitchell did and was going through her pockets when finally did wake, trying to find something to entertain herself with. She finally abandoned her search when another food tray arrived. This time their captors gave them something that seemed to resemble mashed potato and boiled peas. After discovering it tasted nothing like potato and peas, they spent the next hour aiming what they didn't eat at the toilet from the other side of the room.

Sierra sat leaning against the wall, staring vacantly at the corner of the room, absently rubbing her hands. Mitchell noticed that she had ceased fire.

"You OK?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

"Let's talk about something else," he suggested. They had been previously talking about their favourite foods. Sierra glanced over at him.

"Like what?"

"Like, you ever been married?" Sierra looked over at her C.O, confusion on her face.

Mitchell gestured to her hands. "You've been rubbing your ring finger for the last ten minutes. Just thought there might be method to that."

Sierra looked down at her hands to see that she had indeed been rubbing the place where she had worn her wedding ring a long time ago.

"Um, yeah, I was," Sierra replied.

"'Was' being the operative term?"

Sierra was silent for a moment. "I'm a widow," she said quietly.

Mitchell seemed to freeze. "Oh," he said, looking very much like he wanted to retract the question. "I'm sorry."

Sierra offered a weak smile. "It's OK… it was a long time ago."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them again, something Sierra was getting tired of. Instead she asked the only thing she could think of.

"So, um… you ever been married yourself?" Sierra inwardly cringed as Mitchell cast a surprised look her way. She was about to apologise for speaking out of turn when he cleared his throat to answer.

"Not married," he said softly. "But I was engaged once. Didn't work out. She hated the idea of being a military wife."

"Right," Sierra said awkwardly. "Sorry." Mitchell shrugged. Sierra stretched her legs out in front of her and gasped in pain.

"You OK?" Mitchell asked.

"Yeah; cramp." Sierra stood, rubbing the back of her calf. She began to walk around the room to stretch it out. Sierra ran a hand through the short locks of her hair as she stood in the middle of the cell.

"I hope we get out of here soon, 'cause I could really use a–"

Mitchell looked up at Sierra as she paused, mid-sentence. Sierra stopped talking as she felt a searing pain in her neck. She winced as she raised her hand to it, and felt what seemed like a needle jammed into her neck. She gritted her teeth and followed the needle back to what felt like a robotic arm that came down from the ceiling of the cell. Dread filled her and her heart began to race. Mitchell started towards her, reaching towards the device that had attached itself to her neck.

Suddenly, pain blinded her, like an electric current surging through her body. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she screamed as the pain consumed her.

And then, there was darkness.

--XXX--

For the second time since they had been captured, bright lights dazzled her, making her eyes hurt. Sierra's head hurt, pain throbbed in her neck, and she was suddenly aware that she was very hungry. Blinking away the blur of the lights, Sierra managed to make out the shape of Mitchell crouched over her.

She groaned as she accepted Mitchell's hand to sit up. Her head throbbed, making her vision sway as she leant forward over her knees and nearly threw up. She leant back again into Mitchell's hand on her back.

"You alright?" he asked, concern threading his voice.

Sierra swallowed down bile. "How long was I out?" she asked, her grasp on time currently a mess.

"Not long, about ten minutes."

She nodded and rubbed her temples, trying to get the throbbing to ebb. "What happened?"

Mitchell glanced up at the ceiling. "Some kinda mechanical arm got you in the neck and electrocuted you, I think. Must have been a charge similar to a zat 'cause otherwise you'd probably be dead."

Sierra looked sideways at him in alarm. He smiled sheepishly at her. "Sorry," he said as he grasped her hand again and helped her to her feet.

As Sierra stood, her legs gave way slightly and stumbled. Mitchell threw his arms under hers and caught her before she fell. He put his hands on her elbows and helped her straighten up and Sierra came face to face with him, their noses barely an inch apart.

Sierra's heart started to pound with surprise at the sudden proximity to her commanding officer. She felt his hands on her elbows tighten a little, making her throat tighten as well. She didn't know if it was the weakness of her legs, or her sudden light-headedness, or the sudden urge to kiss him, but she could feel herself leaning closer to him. His pale, blue eyes held hers so completely she felt like she didn't know where she was anymore. And nor did she care.

Sierra had no idea that a man's lips could taste so good. In fact, it barely registered to her that she was kissing him until he began to return it. It was then that it occurred to her that they were committing a serious crime.

Sierra pulled back from him, immediately missing the warmth of his lips. She stumbled back from the circle of his arms, and leant against the nearest wall. Sadly, her nightmare of a headache had not gone away, if anything it had intensified. Mitchell had a surprised look on his face, his eyebrows arcing towards his hairline.

"God, I'm sorry, Sir," Sierra said, willing her heart to stop racing. "Won't happen again, Sir."

"Right," Mitchell said quietly, lowering his eyes and turning away from her. Sierra sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. She then moved over to the wash basin to quench her very dry throat.

_Crap, Awkward Moment Number Twenty-Four_.

--XXX--

Sierra stood in a brightly lit hall, the floor paved in stone and the walls painted neutral. She had no idea how she got there, or where 'there' was. Not knowing what else there was to do Sierra began to move down the hall. As she walked, a figure appeared at the far end ahead of her. The figure seemed very familiar to her and Sierra started moving toward them faster.

The figure soon came into focus and Sierra stopped in her tracks.

"Eric?" she breathed, the name sending her heart rate sky-rocketing. The man before her had started to walk towards her and she could see a smile spread across his face. As he came closer to her, Sierra took in everything that was Eric. His smile was exactly the way she remembered it, making his brown eyes shine like stars. His hair fell in ebony wisps around his long face. His skin looked golden, its sensational olive glow making hers look pale as snow. Sierra recognized the suit that he wore; it was white with silver pin-stripes – the suite he wore to their wedding. She looked down at herself and saw she was wearing her bridal gown, the first signs of a baby-bump made all the more obvious. She placed her hands on the bump, her heart beat slowing a little.

Looking up again, she saw Eric standing before her, his face filled with joy. He held his hand out to her and she took it, her own smile making his wider. He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her to his side, kissing her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. Sierra laughed softly and repeated the phrase to him. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling as he reached for the handle of a door that seemed to have appeared in the wall. Sierra kept her eyes on Eric's face as he pulled the door open. His smile faded, however, when a bright light shone through the open door. Sierra followed his gaze to see that the hall around them had faded and they were standing in a darkened room, the light shining down on them like they were two specimens under a microscope.

Sierra's heart began to pound again and she clung to Eric's arm. He tightened his grip on her and turned to her, leaning in to kiss her, before being pulled away by a creature in the darkness.

"NO! Eric!" Sierra screamed after him. She tried to run to him, but she was strapped to a metal table.

A disembodied voice echoed through the room, filling her core with its bass tone. The language it spoke meant nothing to her but it filled her with dread. Then, Eric's cry of pain tore through her heart.

"ERIC!" Sierra screamed, waking from the nightmare. She was back in the white cell of their alien abductors, wearing her normal overalls, covered by the grey blanket they had provided them with. Sierra sat up in shock, almost wrestling with the blanket as she tried to throw it off her.

Mitchell, who had previously been asleep on the other side of the room, suddenly appeared at her side. He shook her shoulder to get her to look at him, and something broke in her. She took a deep shuddering breath a second before tears began to pour down her face.

Mitchell pulled her towards him and she buried her face in his shirt. Tears turned into sobs as he tightened his arm around her shoulders. Sierra twisted her hand into the front of his shirt to keep it from shaking.

Memories that the nightmare had awoken flashed before her eyes bring fresh tears to them. She felt Mitchell cradle the back of her head and she pressed her face into his chest as more painful memories arose.

"Oh, Eric," she breathed into Mitchell's shirt. It took a few minutes for the grief to ebb away, but the pain remained. They sat, leaning against the wall, her head resting on Mitchell's shoulder as she explained to him in a whisper who Eric had been.

"He was my husband," she said with a sniffle. "We met right after Afghanistan, when I took a job teaching at the Air Force Academy. He was a lawyer and the man of my dreams. We were perfect… so perfect that we got married after we had only been dating for six months." She sighed and rubbed the side of her nose. "We also got married 'cause I got pregnant.

"Keenan was the splitting image of Eric, all dark hair and olive skin. Sheppard eyes, though; bright green. We were happy, we had it good."

"What happened?" Mitchell asked softly.

"Drunk driver on the way back from the convenience store. I had been working late and got a phone call from the police. My perfect life had ended."

Mitchell hung his head and looked at her sideways. A tear rolled down Sierra's cheek and she felt him slide his arm around her shoulders again. Wiping the tear from her jaw, Sierra looked up at him. His eyes were filled with a pity and sympathy that Sierra had seen so often that she couldn't bare it. She looked away from him and stood up, moving to her corner of the room.

"Thanks, Sir," she said as she lay back down. "Thanks for listening."

"Sierra –" Mitchell started, but Sierra stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Don't, please; just don't. I've had more enough pity over the last five years to last me a lifetime. Mitchell looked at her with the same pity as before and slowly nodded. He went back and lay down on his side of the room and watched her as she curled on her side and closed her eyes. The image of Eric's smiling face threatened to bring her tears back, but she swallowed them down and rolled onto her other side.

Sleep took its time to come, and when it did, it was plagued with dreams of the perfect life Sierra knew she'd never have again.

--XXX--

Sierra woke up to the smell of something putrid. Rolling onto her back, she discovered that another food tray had been delivered. Mitchell had already eaten his half and left her the rest while she slept. She glanced over at him and saw that he was staring vacantly at the opposite wall.

Glancing back at the food tray, she realized how much she missed real food. Today's meal looked like mashed peas and honey, but smelt nothing like it.

"It doesn't taste as bad as it looks," Mitchell called to her without shifting his gaze. Sierra decided to take his word for it and dipped her finger into the paste. Surprisingly, he was right. It tasted like baby food, really bland baby food. Sierra managed to eat most of it before the urge to barf became overwhelming. Swallowing down the bile that was rising in her throat, she shot up from the floor to the hand basin. She gulped down three mouthfuls of foul-tasting water to wash out the taste of the meal. When she glanced back at the food tray, it was gone. It had been the same with all the food deliveries. As soon as they had abandoned the food, it was whisked away in a flash of light.

She looked back at Mitchell; he was still staring at the same patch of wall. "You OK?" she asked.

He blinked and looked up at her. "Yeah," he said. "I was just thinkin'."

"Of a way to get out of here? 'Cause I dunno about you, but I'm getting really tired of these white walls."

Mitchell grunted in accent but said nothing. He returned his gaze to the wall, a frown forming between his eyebrows. Sierra, slightly concerned, went and sat down next to him. She followed his gaze but found nothing interesting on the wall.

Sierra shook her head and attempted to flatten her dark locks of hair. It was a curse among all Sheppards – the hair always stuck up on top. She abandoned the attempt and rested her head against the wall. She closed her eyes for a moment, but then snapped them open again when a bright light pierced them. Her chest tightened with fear and anxiety and she reached for Mitchell's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly and they waited with baited breath.

Seconds later, the white walls of their cell were replaced with dark shadows and shapes. For a moment, Sierra's heart stopped, almost sure they were back in the examination room and her grip on Mitchell's hand tightened. Soon, their eyes adjusted to the gloom and Sierra managed to make out the shape of an F-302, directly ahead of them. Her heart swelled with relief and she turned to Mitchell who was just dawning on the fact.

"We're back!" she breathed. "We're on the _Prometheus_!"

Mitchell gave a disbelieving laugh before launching to his feet and punching the air with a shout. He pulled Sierra to her feet and hugged her in a bone crushing embrace. She returned it, dizzy with glee and surprise at what had just transpired. She giggled as he held her at arms length.

It was then that she became aware that there were other people in the hanger with them. All of their squadron had apparently also been delivered back to the place they had been taken from. Carrie and Yuko had both spotted her and rushed over to fold her in a group hug. Tears were in both girls' eyes as they recalled their experiences to Sierra and Mitchell. Apparently, they had both been in the same cell.

Mitchell did a quick head count and found there was no one from the squadron missing. Soon, the colonel was making an announcement over the P.A. system.

"Attention everyone, this is Colonel Ronson. I have been informed by Major Carter, who managed to evade capture, that we are in the clear, so everyone: stand-down. I know that we have all been through a lot the last few… days, and you will all get the rest you deserve. First, let's get this bird back home." A smattering of applause and cheering followed this announcement and Mitchell herded the squadron out of the 302 bay to see if they could be of use anywhere else.

Mitchell touched Sierra on the shoulder on their way out and advised her that she ought to head to the Infirmary to get herself checked out. Sierra knew an order when she heard one, and nodded, heading the opposite way to the rest of her squad.

When she arrived at the Infirmary, she saw Major Carter being helped onto a cot. Sierra went to stand by her superior officer to see how she was doing. The major barely registered her presence; her eyes were unfocused and her lids drooping considerably. There was a cut on her head and dark circles under her eyes. Sierra put a gentle hand on her shoulder and left her to rest.

--XXX--

The first thing she did after the Infirmary staff cleared her was go to the Mess Hall. She froze when she stepped in, though. It seemed like everyone who wasn't flying the ship was here. Colonel Ronson and Major Gant were deep in conversation as they filled their trays from the buffet the Mess staff had set out, Carrie and Yuko were huddled together with some of the nurses from the Infirmary, while the rest of the crew were gathered around the room in twos or threes. Sierra spotted Mitchell at a table by the window, eating his meal quietly while four engineers sat talking in hushed tones around him. Sierra took her place at the end of the queue to the bay-moiré behind a number of technicians that were going back for seconds.

Sierra took a tray as she felt someone join the line behind her. Glancing back she saw it was Mitchell.

"Hey, Sir," she said. "Seconds?"

Mitchell shook his head, glancing about and putting his hands on his hips. He leant in closer to her to speak to her in hushed tones.

"You remember that… thing that happened in the cell?" Sierra didn't have to ask to know that the thing he was talking about was the kiss. She nodded. "I think that we probably shouldn't talk about that… again."

Sierra swallowed as she was reminded of the kiss. She nodded. "I totally agree, Sir."

Mitchell nodded. "That's good then. 'Night."

"Night, Sir," Sierra replied as Mitchell moved away from her and towards the door. She quickly rubbed her hands on her overalls, as they had suddenly become damp. Licking her lips, she could almost remember the taste of his lips on hers before someone gently nudged her in the back to keep her moving in the line. Shaking her head, Sierra decided it was definitely better to forget that it even happened. In the days to follow, though, she would find it increasingly harder to do so.

--XXX--

Please review, I love hearing your comments.


	4. Chicago

Hi all, I seemed to have gotten a bit of Writer's Block whilst writing this chapter (you may see why when you read it). But the important thing is that I finally finished it. Whew! I watched _Whispers _today (a bit behind the times, I know, but Australia's a bit lax on its American viewing) and wasn't that just creepy! Great to see Paul McGillion again, too. I hope we get to see more of him. Hoping to watch _The Queen_ real soon after I get my hands on the season five finally of NCIS.

Mail Bag:

To nanda, thanks, we'll be in Atlantis soon enough, another few chapters I hope.

To The City of Atlantis, LOL! It was something I had always planned to do, to add a bit of complexity to the character's past. I think that just saying she's Sheppard's sister isn't enough. And about the lemon campaign, I think I saw a photo of one of them on Joe Mallozzi's blog! It's a great idea – please send a dozen lemons on my behalf!

To baileylak, wow, thanks I'm so glad you like it so mush. And believe me, there is a LOT more to come!

To jasminesmommy, hehe – you have no idea! (grins evilly)

To trecebo, thanks. I know she's not perfect, but I'm working on it. Cheers!

To KendraC, thanks. You presume well. But I'm not going to give anything away yet. Tricking John into sitting in the chair is a good idea that I hadn't thought of, but like I said, not giving anything away!

Thanks to everyone for reviewing – please keep them coming. Now, please enjoy.

--Chapter 4 – Chicago--  
Training exercises had always been something that Sierra enjoyed; no threat of being attacked, all the time in the world to do all kinds of cool maneuvers while trying not to knock yourself unconscious – thank heavens for inertial dampeners was all Sierra could say on that regard.

It was the art of flying that held so much appeal to Sierra. The danger, the high-speed, high-risk formations and maneuvers. All of that rated up there with fast cars and rollercoasters. John had joined the Air Force for the heights planes could take you. Sierra joined for the thrill of speed.

Unbeknownst to her, though, this training session was going to be the worst of her life.

The _Prometheus_ had brought them to a lightly populated asteroid field around a gas giant in a system on the other side of the galaxy. Sierra had thought it made more sense to go to the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, but Mitchell told her that it would be possible for people to see them from Earth.

The asteroid field appeared to be the remains of a moon that had been decimated by a meteor centuries ago, and contained high concentrations of nickel and iron, which wreaked havoc with their sensors. That was the objective of the exercise – both pilot and co-pilot had to navigate their way through the asteroid belt without the use of their sensors.

Though the asteroid field was sparsely populated, it was very broad. As Sierra gazed at it from the observation room near the hanger, she guessed that it had been a very large moon that had been destroyed; a habitable moon possibly, with trees, birds and animals, and possibly even a Stargate. She had been informed that she and Mitchell were going first, racing against Captain Connor and Lt. Stevenson. Carrie had joined her at the window to tease.

Soon they were given the go-ahead for launch and Mitchell took the first pass through the asteroid field. While Sierra monitored the systems on their on-board computers with one eye, she watched Mitchell pilot the 302 with the other. He was a natural – that was all she could say about him. He swerved and ducked and dived around house-sized rocks like he was a part of it, like the ship was an extension of himself. And he was so graceful at it.

Needless to say he won his leg of the race. As the two F-302s prepared to head back into the field, Sierra looked over at Carrie. Her friend was waving at her.

"_I'm gonna beat the pants off you, Sheppard_," she called over the comms.

Sierra laughed. "I don't think so, Stevenson. I got the Force on my side." Carrie laughed.

"_Whoever wins buys the other those shoes we saw last week._"

"You got a deal!"

"Hey," Mitchell said, cutting in. "You two gonna fly or chatter?"

"Sorry, Sir," Sierra said as she punched the craft into the asteroid belt. Carrie wasn't far behind her. Sierra pushed the small ship to its top speed while ducking and weaving the huge rocks. While the inertial dampeners compensated for the extreme speed they were traveling at, it didn't help a great deal with the cornering.

Sierra guessed they must have been about half-way through the field when a burst of static came through the radio. It was followed by indistinct and fractured voices.

"_This is Connor… requesting… alien ship… immediate… repeat… assistance._"

"This is Mitchell, Connor; repeat that."

"_This is Con… may-day, may-day… under attack… alien… requesting assistance!_"

"Sir?" Sierra questioned.

"Maneuver to intercept, Sheppard," Mitchell ordered.

"Yessir." Sierra was already angling toward where she hoped Carrie and Connor would be. She ducked and weaved closer to Carrie's known position. She glanced down at her sensors, but already knew that was useless; the sensors couldn't detect anything in the asteroid belt. Soon, Sierra saw what looked like explosions ahead of them in the field. She didn't need Mitchell's order to know to head in the general direction.

Sierra cleared the final bus-sized asteroid in time to see the alien ship line up Carrie and Connor's 302.

"Carrie, dive!" Sierra screamed into her comms as she shot after the alien ship. But her order came too late and Sierra watched as the alien craft opened fire on the 302. Sierra froze as Carrie's scream echoed in her ears. The explosion zipped passed them, torn metal and flames. Ahead of them, the alien ship swerved to avoid an asteroid that was in their path. Sierra knew that she should bank as well, but she couldn't move. She was on the brink of hyper-ventilating and there was screaming in her ears. Soon she registered that it was Mitchell that was yelling at her.

"SHEPPARD!" he shouted as he quickly transferred control back to him and banked hard right, missing the rock by inches. "God, Sheppard! Wake up, will ya!"

But Sierra couldn't concentrate. Her hands were shaking and she stared at the controls before her, not knowing what to do. Mitchell swore at her, punching the ship forward again, pursuing the alien ship.

Their ship hadn't been armed with missiles for this training run; they hadn't thought they would need them. Therefore, their only weapons were the guns on the ship. Mitchell opened up a volley of 50 caliber bullets on the alien craft as it tried to out-maneuver them. The major was yelling at Sierra to pay attention and do her job. But she was finding it hard to concentrate.

Sierra had lost friends before, so, so many; she'd almost lost her brother – twice – in Afghanistan. But she didn't understand why she was so affected by this. Carrie was her friend, as was Connor, and going into this program, hell, this career path, they all knew that every day could be their last. She'd been through all this before, a hundred times, had death paraded before her so blatantly, so perceptibly; she knew exactly what it was like to loose someone, to have them torn from your fingers.

But that had been a long time ago. The war had been years ago and since then she'd had a desk job. She hadn't been in the field for years and then suddenly thrust into this world of aliens and wormholes! It had taken its toll on her.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur; she was jostled around the cabin of the 302, unaware enough to anticipate the high-speed maneuvers that Mitchell was pulling with expert precision. Her friend's face loomed before her, followed by the smiling faces of her family in the frame that she kept on her night-stand. The sound of her laughter filled her ears, only to be suddenly replaced by her agonizing scream as the life was ripped from her body.

Numbness paralyzed her, filling her mind with static. Mitchell's shouts washed over her in a haze as one thought turned around and around in her head – _This shouldn't be happening to me!_

And then the battle was over. The fireball that was once the alien fighter blew passed them as a cloud of torn metal and slag. As though a spell had been lifted off her, Sierra felt movement return to her limbs and turned in her seat to watch the ship that killed her friend fly by, the remainder of the ship slamming into a asteroid in its path.

Mitchell cursed under his breath as he maneuvered the ship from the asteroid field into radio range of the _Prometheus_. Sierra hung her head as Mitchell reported the incident to Ronson. She was slightly surprised when he left out the part about her going to pieces. He hadn't forgotten it, though, and grilled her in the hall outside the hanger.

"And God help me," he hissed at her, "the next time you space out on me like that again, I'll have you goddamn reassigned! Understood Sheppard?" He had a firm grip on her upper arm, her back firmly pressed against the bulkhead. She was still feeling numb, avoiding his eyes as much as possible.

She softly replied, "Yes, Sir." Mitchell pursed his lips a little before he loosened his hand around her bicep.

"Look," he said, a touch of sympathy creeping into his voice. "I know that you and Stevenson were friends, but you can't let it affect you in the middle of a dogfight. It's the one thing that I've noticed about you, Sheppard; you act on your emotions too much."

"So what am I supposed to do, Sir? Follow orders blindly and not feel anything at all?"

Mitchell lowered his voice a little. "I'm not saying that, Sierra. I'm saying that you should act with your head a little more. It might save your life." And with that, he let go of her arm and walked away from her.

Sierra was left watching his retreating back feeling like there was a pound of lead in her stomach. The weight remained with her through the remainder of the day, as the training exercise had been called off. They started back to Earth as soon as Mitchell and Sierra returned to the ship and Carrie and Connor's service was scheduled for the day after they returned.

Sierra, dressed in her freshly pressed dress blues, attended the ceremony with the rest of her squadron. The day passed in a blur of red, white and blue, salutes and the echoes of ceremonial gun-fire. The next thing she knew, she was in the first-class seat on a flight to Chicago.

--XXX--

The funeral was nice; a lot of people had come to farewell the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Windy City, something Sierra hadn't known until Mitchell told her on the plane. Carrie's father made a nice speech about his little girl and about how loved she was and how missed she would be. Sierra offered what comfort she could to Carrie's younger sisters and their stout mother. The elderly woman had tears in her eyes as she told Sierra stories of Carrie's youth. They sat in the last row of chairs as people milled about after the coffin had been lowered.

Smoothing non-existent wrinkles from the folded flag in her lap, Mrs. Stevenson described the way that Carrie had been the top of her class. As she tried to explain the degrees that Carrie had taken whilst at college, her throat choked up, tears welling, threatening to fall. Sierra felt a rush of sympathy towards this woman.

"No parent should have to bury their child."

Mrs. Stevenson looked up at Sierra. She saw the older woman take note of the understanding in her face. Mrs. Stevenson placed her hand on top of Sierra's. She squeezed it, glad that she could be someone who understood the older woman's grief.

--XXX--

"_Hi, this is John Sheppard… um, I'm not here right now… obviously… yeah, so leave your name and a number and I'll try to get back to you. However, if you haven't heard from me in… two weeks, then I probably won't be calling back… so, yeah…_" Beep.

"John… hi, it's me. How long has it been since you changed that message? Look, I know we haven't talked in a while, and I know that you're not gonna get this any time soon, but next time you're in the vicinity of… the States, please, give me a call… even if its just a message, I really need to hear your voice again… Bye."

Sierra sighed and dropped the cell onto the bar top. She stared at the glass in her hand before lifting it to her lips. She had never quite been into beer as much as her brothers had been, but found it was the best drink for drowning one's sorrows. The bar-tender had already taken away two empty glasses and was eyeing her from the other end of the bar. Sierra guessed that he saw a lot of her kind; a lot of people come to drink away their bad days, their angry wives, their cheating boyfriends. She wondered for a moment how many made it home.

Sierra threw a sour look at her cell phone as it began to ring. She knew it wouldn't be John (she had a separate tone set for his calls anyway) and tried to ignore it. After the caller had called three times, and the bar-tender had cast several displeased looks her direction, Sierra flipped the phone open with a roll of her eyes, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"You should know that I have had enough beers to be completely insubordinate, so I really hope this isn't an officer ranking higher than a lieutenant."

She heard a snort on the other end of the receiver. "_Sorry to disappoint_," came the slightly amused voice of her C.O. Sierra dug her fingernails into her palm as she fumbled an apology.

"_Forget it, Sheppard_," Mitchell said. "_Where are you? I can hear music_."

She cast a glare at the band playing "Johnny Be Good" at the far end of the bar. Rolling her eyes again Sierra said, "You sound like my brother. And you don't want to know where I am."

"_I didn't know you had a brother_."

"We don't talk that much anymore."

"_Right. So, where are you?_"

Sierra glared at the phone as though Mitchell would be able to see it. "Alone. With my good friends Miller and Coors."

"_You're in a pub?_" Mitchell exclaimed with a tad of incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Actually, no. It's technically a bar, but I guess there's not a great difference. Though, I have found myself in worse places over the years." Sierra flipped the bar-tender a wave as he cast a sour glance in her direction. She made note to only order cans for her next few rounds.

The bar was actually not a bad place. It was nicely lit, the band was playing some classy music that Sierra had actually heard before, and the bar stools were quite comfortable. She was simply giving the impression that she was in a shady part of town to see if she could get a rise out of Mitchell.

"_Well, I hope you know what you're doing. Am I going to be waiting up all night prayin' you make it back to the hotel and don't end up in an alley somewhere?_"

"Nah," Sierra said with a shrug. "I doubt it. I'll just ask this burly-lookin' biker next to me to give me a ride." The banker three stools down from her looked up in slight alarm and she threw a wink at him.

There was a pause from Mitchell before he snorted again. "_You're just messin' with me, aren't you?_"

Sierra gave a short laugh. "See you in the morning!" she said with a sing-song voice before snapping the phone shut. Little did Mitchell know, she was sitting in the bar across from Reception in the hotel they were staying at. Sierra chuckled to herself as she swiveled on her stool to watch the elevator bank. As she waited she sipped her beer.

He didn't keep her waiting long. She timed him at 3 minutes and 12 seconds. The elevator doors opened and Mitchell emerged pulling his coat on against the Chicago spring evening, with his room key between his teeth. He had decided to change, obviously, but Sierra recalled him cursing about forgetting to bring another pair of shoes. His brightly polished dress-shoes picked up the light from the chandelier in the foyer. Above them, he had changed into a comfortable-looking pair of jeans, a plain white button-up shirt and well-cut, dark blue dinner jacket. The coat he was straightening the collar of was, surprisingly, his standard issue dress coat. As he slid his key into his pocket she noticed that he had taken his clusters off the sleeves, as well as his medals that were normally donned on the front of the canvas.

Sierra wondered if he would glance into the bar as he walked by and was not disappointed. She raised her glass to him in a mock salute as he did the mother of all double-takes. He stopped in the foyer and chuckled to himself before stepping into the dimly lit area. Sierra swiveled back to face the bar as he came to lean against it next to her.

"You seriously had me worried," he said glancing over at the bar-tending and ordering a beer.

"Sorry, Sir," she said as she took another mouthful from her glass. Mitchell's glance at her told her he had heard the sarcasm in her voice.

"Come to drown your sorrows?" he asked handing the barman the money for the drink.

Sierra shrugged. "You gonna join me?"

Mitchell gestured to the beer in front of them and shrugged. "I guess I have." He raised his glass to hers and the gently clink of glass on glass sounded like the jingle of medals on a general's chest. They sat in silence for a few moments before Mitchell broke it with a clearing of his throat.

"You never told me you had a brother."

Sierra stared straight ahead. "Does it matter?"

"You just seem to resent him, that's all."

Sierra was silent for a moment. "I don't resent him," she replied finally. "I resent the fact that we don't talk to each other as much as we used to."

"Why is that?"

Sierra turned to him, not liking the fact that he was digging so much into her private life. "Why do you wanna know?"

Mitchell shrugged, idly sipping his drink. "I guess I just wanna get to know you better." Sierra turned back to the bar and threw a glance at him again as he set his beer on the bar top. "I also wanna know why you froze up when Stevenson was killed."

Sierra's attention became very focused on the bar-runner before her as though it would answer for her. She really didn't want to have to explain herself to him of all people. The last thing she needed was him thinking she was weak. Not that he didn't think that already, what with her going to pieces a few days ago.

As though he was reading her mind he said, "It's not a weakness to feel grief when a friend dies, you just picked the worst time to do it."

Sierra drew the symbol for Earth's point of origin in the condensation on the bar top. She shook her head a little and decided that he at least deserved an explanation.

"I haven't been in the field for years. I was a teacher – a damn teacher – and my C.O. practically shoved this opportunity down my throat." She gave a soft snort. "I tried to tell them I'm not the right one for the job."

"Who is, then?"

She gave an almighty sigh and drained the last of her beer. "My brother. Typical, isn't it? He's the one who's the hot-shot pilot, the one who always wanted to fly, and here I am, where he should be."

"And where should you be?"

Sierra turned to him, her temper bubbling at the surface. "Why are you suddenly asking so many questions? Since when have you been so interested in my life?"

Mitchell shrugged and watched her waiting for her answer, as though he didn't doubt it would come.

"In a lecture hall – teaching Advanced Mathematics," she said with a touch of bitter resentment in her voice. She flagged down the bar tender and requested a refill. Mitchell also asked for another, more politely than she had, though.

Her next beer went down quickly, but still felt no ill effects from the alcohol. It was then that she decided to hit the spirits. Mitchell was one behind her. When Sierra started feeling light-headed Mitchell suggested she call it a night. She threw a look that told him that was unlikely to happen.

The bar tender slid her refilled glass toward her with a look at Mitchell. Sierra caught it in her peripheral vision and guessed that the bar-tender was trying to get Mitchell to drag her out of there.

Sierra shrugged a shoulder and drained what was in the glass, almost coughing as the liquor burned her throat on its way down. She slid sideways off the stool, managing to stand without swaying, something that Mitchell seemed impressed at. Sierra smirked at him.

"I drank my younger brother under the table at his twenty-first," she said in way of explanation. She collected her coat from the counter and headed for the door.

"Hey," Mitchell called after her. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

Sierra shrugged. "Dunno. Watch a movie, order Room Service. What do you care?"

In the foyer, Mitchell put a firm hand on her arm and turned her toward him. "'Cause you're my team-mate and we're supposed to watch each other's backs."

Sierra blinked at him. She had forgotten that was the primary mandate of a team. She laughed at her own naivety. That's what you get for spending eight years behind a desk.

Mitchell must have taken her laugh as a laugh at him. He followed her into the lift, his hand on her arm again. "Listen," he said in an angry whisper. "You may be a pain in the ass, Sheppard, but despite that I actually care about you."

Sierra blinked at him. He also seemed to have realized what he said and tried to take it back. She smiled at his discomfort and the fact that he was babbling and did something she probably shouldn't have to shut him up. She kissed him.

As she leant back from him she took in the look of surprise that was plastered on his face. She laughed again as the elevator doors opened onto their floor. She stepped into the hall and watched it spin for a moment. She felt Mitchell's hand on her elbow and turned towards him, catching the flash of desire in his eyes. She wondered if he would be willing to risk his career and follow through on it. The answer he gave her was a yes.

Sierra knew that Mitchell hadn't had as much to drink as she had, so it seemed a little wrong to her that he was the one pushing her against the door of her room. The heat of his body pressing against hers sent shivers down her spine. She tried not to whimper as his tongue explored her mouth with an almost desperate vigor. This was so much more than she expected from someone who was risking his very career. But when everything is at risk, why not go all in? Sierra wondered briefly why she, herself, was so willing to risk a court-marshal. Perhaps she felt that she had nothing to lose. Maybe it was that same sense of unworthiness that filled her when she took this assignment. Maybe _he _was worth it.

Mitchell's strong arms around her waist pulled her thoughts away from consequences and causes and refocused on the insane passion that was coursing through her veins. An encouraging hand guided hers to the pocket where she had stowed her room key. She broke her lip lock with Mitchell to slide the key card through the lock on the door. She failed the first attempt when his lips slid down her jaw to the inside of her neck. She managed to unlock it on the second, and nearly fell backwards as the door opened behind her. Mitchell managed to hold her up with an arm tight around her waist. Sierra looked up at him as he guided her over the threshold, kicking the door behind him. Her back met the wall again as he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing as labored as hers.

"You OK?" she breathed. He was silent for a moment. "Cameron?"

His eyes darted up to hers, their normal clear, blue depths dark with desire. "We don't have to do this," he said, his voice barely above a growl.

"I know," she whispered back.

"We shouldn't be doin' this," he said with more strength, but at the same moment he slid his hands under her blouse.

"I know." Sierra closed her eyes feeling the heat rise in her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her mouth.

"It probably isn't a good idea."

"I'm not known for those," Sierra said, tugging at his coat. It fell to the floor with a 'fwump'.

Mitchell chuckled, a hearty, warm baritone that made Sierra's heart skip a beat. "Neither am I."

--XXX--

Sierra lay on her back, staring at the ceiling fan. Letting out an explosive sigh she dashed a glance across at Mitchell as he turned away from her in his sleep. As he rolled onto his other side, she felt the arm that had been previously resting across her breasts slide off, leaving her skin cool with exposure. With a twist of her mouth she pulled the bed sheet up further, tucking it under her arms.

She had never been able to sleep in hotels. She had slept in a tree-house when she was ten, under a library desk when she was nineteen, and in the cargo-hold of a C-2A Greyhound in major turbulence when she was twenty-five. But nearly all her life, she had never been able to sleep well in hotels. And tonight was definitely not an exception.

Her head pounded with a hang-over and the memory of what had only finished an hour or so ago. It wasn't normally like her to do something like this. Sure, she'd had a one night thing or two; most people had more than a few under their belts; but this was definitely new. Sleeping with her commanding officer – wasn't that a criminal offence? Hell, yes! She'd never had a problem with maintaining professional relationships with her C.O.'s before, mainly because they were too old, her brother, or just plain asses. But Mitchell was different somehow. She still hadn't figured out why yet.

Glancing over at him now, Sierra couldn't help but admire the breadth of his shoulders, the line of his neck, the way his torso followed down to his slim waist and well-toned legs. She remembered vividly the way his strong arms had circled her waist, pulling her closer to him. She could still feel the way his lips slid down her neck, slightly stubble-covered chin caressing her shoulders and collar bone. It had all re-awoken memories that she had tried so hard to suppress.

It wasn't the fact that she just had sex with her boss that bothered her the most; it was the fact that she hadn't had it that good since Eric.

It was like a slap in the face. In the space of a few hours she had been reminded of all the best moments of her life that she could never bring back. Eric had been her lover, her best friend and her reason for life. If it hadn't been for her brother and the support of both her family and his, she didn't think that she'd have been able to go on.

She had almost convinced herself that after Eric she'd never be able to love again. And she had no idea what this was. Absurdity rose in her as she contemplated the idea of falling in love with Mitchell, but it slowly ebbed as she watched him sleep. She remembered the tenderness he'd shown her during their... encounter, but she also remembered the almost animalistic desire that had driven them both. The worst part of all of this was that right now she was craving more.

Scrunching her eyes shut, she rolled onto her side, facing away from him. She didn't need this right now. She had just attended a funeral, for God's sake. And suddenly she was furious at him. She looked back at Mitchell over her shoulder, anger present on her features. Not that it mattered in the darkened hotel room. How dare he! How dare he take advantage of her state of mind just so he could get his rocks off! She had just attended the funeral of her friend, comforted her crying sisters, and handed the folded flag to her mother. How dare he!

But even as her anger grew, memories played in her mind. It had not been Mitchell who had made the move on her; it had been the other way around. Five beers and two scotches were enough to re-ignite the fires that secretly burned, fuelled by his touch. Sierra grunted in frustration and roughly turned her back on him again. She wished and wished that she could turn back the clock and take it all back.

That was until she felt him roll over towards her. She heard him murmur incoherently as he moved closer to her. His strong arms circled around her waist, his chest pressed against her back and his lips found the back of her neck. His breath stirred a wisp of her hair as he sighed contently. She soon felt him settle and his breathing deepened again. Sierra sighed herself, not as contented, though, and tried to get her pounding heart to slow. This was her own fault; she had set herself up for this fall. But reflecting back on their encounter and feeling the strength and possessiveness he held her with now, she swore that it was worth it.

--XXX--

She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she woke with a slight jolt. The first thing she realized was that early morning Chicago light was filtering through the heavy drapes of the hotel room. The second was that someone was moving his hands over her pale skin. She snapped to the realization that she knew who it was, and with that realization came a sense of dread and apprehension that had plagued her most of the night.

She managed to suppress a shiver as Mitchell's hands moved over her hips and up to her waist. Rolling onto her back, she found that he was propped up on an elbow leaning over her. He gave her a small smile before his eyes were drawn to her lips. She licked them subconsciously, knowing that it was practically an invite for him to kiss her. And kiss her he did.

It started out gentle, almost like a first kiss, tender and warm. Everything a kiss should be. But perhaps it was their undressed states that caused heat to rise so quickly in their kiss. What had started out as something tame quickly turned into a hot and heavy mess of limbs and sheets. And for the second time in twelve hours, Mitchell left her breathless.

When she had managed to regain her breath, she extracted herself from the folds of the sheets, offering Mitchell a small smile but finding it hard to meet his ice-blue gaze. Without a word, she locked herself in the bathroom and nearly scoured herself free of his scent. Weariness overtook her but she knew that she'd be able to catch up on a bit of sleep on the plane trip home. Glancing at the foggy dial of a radio-clock that someone had conveniently placed, she saw that their flight was due to leave in two hours. Meaning, they would have to leave very, very soon.

Sierra groaned with frustration. She turned the water off and toweled herself dry. Wrapping a towel around herself she slid out of the bathroom to an empty room. Hoping that her CO (Sierra couldn't help but cringe at that thought) had left to pack, Sierra took the opportunity to change and re-pack. She carefully tucked her Class-A uniform back into its bag and turned to hang it on the hook behind the door. As she cast her eyes up, she saw that there was a navy-blue sock that had been caught on it. She carefully untangled the sock from the hook and stuffed it into her pocket. She then tried to swallow her heart back down from her mouth.

The cab ride from the hotel to the air-port was probably the most uncomfortable car ride she had ever experienced. And that included the time her father caught her making out with a boy at a school dance. Just before they got into the cab, Sierra had palmed Mitchell the sock she found hanging on her door. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction as she watched him turn the colour of a tomato.

At least on the plane there was room for her to escape. Not that she was the one who did the escaping. Mitchell spent most of the trip talking to a fellow SGC officer they met in the air-port lounge. Sierra didn't know him, nor did she really want to. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She was jolted awake as they touched down in Peterson two hours later. She had gotten a bit of sleep, but didn't feel as refreshed as she wished she was when dragging her suitcase to the government car and personal driver that were waiting for them. Mitchell placed a hand on her arm, making her pause. They had left the other officer at the gate as his family was there to meet him.

Sierra met his eyes with determination for the first time in hours. His face was shadowed by the same guilt and regret she had been feeling since before they left Chicago.

"Look, Sheppard," he said, clearly struggling for words. "About what happened last night… and this morning, I feel like I should apologize –"

Sierra nearly laughed. "You don't have to say anything, Sir," she said. "It was primarily my doing. I'm sorry I put you in such a difficult position."

Mitchell's eyes went a little wider. "No! You got nothing to apologize for. I shouldn't have… you know." He left his unsaid words wash over her as a wave of guilt: her guilt.

She lowered her head and muttered a quiet apology before sliding into the front seat of the car, effectively cutting herself off from any further conversation. As she watched the town-scape of Colorado Springs pass them by, guilt and shame began to gnaw at her insides. Her heart beat began to race and spots began to fill her vision. In all her life she had never done anything so… stupid! She hoped that this all could be forgotten as a really bad mistake.

She glanced back at Mitchell in the back seat. One look told her that he was as distressed about this as she was. He looked up at her and gave her a small smile. Finally, feeling as though things might end up OK, Sierra returned the smile.

Turning back to the front, she sighed. Things may work out OK, but suppressing the memories of their night in Chicago was going to be a hell of a lot harder than the kiss that started it all.

--XXX--

Sierra stepped into the elevator as she turned on her cell phone. She sighed as she saw that she had missed a call. The number wasn't one she recognized and so she listened to the message with a frown creasing her eyebrows.

"_Sierra, hi it's me_," started John's surprised voice. "_I got you're message last night. Sorry I wasn't home… it's good to hear from you_." Sierra winced at the fact that he sounded like he was talking to an old friend from college. Apparently he thought that too. "_Shit, sorry, Sierra, I just wasn't expecting you're call_." He laughed. "_Now I sound like a really bad brother._" He paused and she could almost hear him pinch his nose as he sighed. "_Look I'm really sorry, but I'm shipping out again tonight. I'll be leaving L.A. by 1400 so if you get this before then _–"

Sierra pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the clock on the display – 1510. Her curse echoed around the empty metal box. She quickly put the phone to her ear again.

"_- dunno when I'll be back in the States, but I promise we will catch up. Look, I gotta go, cab's here, but I'll call you when I get back. Bye._"

Sierra managed to smother a groan of despair. Things just kept getting better and better. She kicked the elevator doors with frustration, only to have them open a second later to reveal a surprised-looking Dr. Jackson.

"Sorry," she muttered as she dragged her suitcase past him and to the door of her temporary quarters. Slamming the door, she stalked over to the bed and collapsed onto it. Seeing as they weren't set to ship out until tomorrow, Sierra kicked off her shoes and crawled beneath the covers. The dreams she had were filled with the past.

--XXX--


	5. Lost City

**Hi all! Sorry it's been so long since I updated last, but I couldn't figure out how to write this chapter. I finally got a break-through though, and the rest kind of just flowed. **

**I know it's been a while since you guys reviewed last so I hope you all remember what I'm talking about in this update's Mailbag. Also, I'm a bit behind the times, here in Oz, so is someone able to tell me what happened to Jason Momoa? **

Mailbag:  
To **KendraC**, I have an idea on what's going to happen, but I won't be sure until I finalize it. Don't worry – both of them will be going to Atlantis if I have anything to say about it.

To **Asugar**, I'm really glad you're liking it. To tell you the truth, I'm actually surprised how well Sierra and Mitchell go together. It was kinda always my intention, but I had no idea it would work out so well. You are correct to assume that it is set in season 7 of SG-1. This following chapter is (as you can tell from the title) set during the events of _Lost City_, the season finale. About Sierra staying on Earth; as good as it all seems, fairy tales don't always have happy endings.

To **Emagen Laile**, sorry to keep you waiting so long for this chapter; I hope you haven't given up on me. Thanks heaps for you review. I didn't feel comfortable writing a detailed love-scene in a story based on a show for all ages. I'm glad you like it so far.

To **trecebo**, I know what you meant – perfectly damaged. I just hope I can keep it consistent and believable. Thanks.

To The City of Atlantis, I agree; they do go surprisingly well together. It just can't last though…

To **jasminesmommy**, who's black mark? Mitchell's or John's? If you mean that bit at the end where he says he's shipping out again, I kinda intended that to be when he is assigned to McMurdo in Antarctica. So, technically, he already has his black mark. Wasn't that, like, five years before he joined the Atlantis mission?

To **bookworm2011**, please be patient, I'm gettin' there. Only another three chapters (I hope) until we get there. I'm glad you are liking this so much. Please, tell all your friends!

To **baileylak**, yes, unfortunately, regs are regs. What do you think _SG-1_ would have been like without them? Well, technically, due to regs, John should never find out. And I hope that Mitchell isn't stupid enough to tell him, unless he had a death wish.

To **ionawolfrider**, thanks very much! You have no idea how glad I am to read that. Please stay tuned.

To **Aly**, thanks heaps. I am hoping for some John/Liz ship too, but, if you haven't guessed by now, I'm hoping to keep this as close to the broadcasted show as possible. But I guess I can throw in some saucy extra scenes. LOL. The twin thing was just an idea that popped into my head a while back. I'm glad you don't object.

**And that's the end of the mailbag. Gosh, any more reviews and they'll need a chapter of their own! Thanks all for reviewing. Now, please enjoy the show!**

* * *

-----Chapter 5 – Lost City-----  
The next few months were very different for Sierra. Awkwardness seemed to loom over her like a rain-cloud every time she was within ten feet of Mitchell. His ice-blue gaze seemed to follow her around the ship and she did her best to avoid it. Any conversation that has held between them consisted of three-word questions and one-word answers. There were moments when they stood beside each other in briefings and in the Mess Hall line-up, when Sierra would catch a wiff of his scent and send memories flashing through her mind, raising her heart-rate and making sweat break out on her palms.

But, just like any professional, she never let it get in the way of her job. When she was in the cockpit of their 302, or on red alert, ready for battle, she was able to push aside the memories of their… amazing night together and focus on her duties. If only she could do that all the time.

And so the awkwardness continued for a week or so more, until Yuko noticed that something was up. Upon returning from the locker room one evening, Yuko stood with crossed arms, baring Sierra's way into their shared quarters. Even though there was only the two of them now, neither had felt like moving into the space that Carrie had once occupied.

Sierra raised an eyebrow at her. Yuko wasn't exactly the most imposing figure to be standing in a doorway, as she was a whole head shorter than Sierra, but it didn't stop her trying.

"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on between you and Mitchell," she stated, rooting herself to the floor.

Sierra blinked but regained her composure quickly. "There is nothing going on."

"Oh, please," Yuko replied. "It's written all over your face. Every time he's around you space out and go all quiet. I'm not an idiot, Sierra."

She sighed. "It's nothing, trust me."

Yuko still didn't seem to believe her. She narrowed her eyes at Sierra. "Did something happen while we were on that alien ship?"

"No."

"Chicago, then?"

Sierra's breath hitched as mention of that place brought back one or two memories she could do without right now. "No," she said firmly, shouldering her way into the room so Yuko couldn't see her face. The younger woman, however, did catch her moment's hesitation.

"Oh, my God," she said, closing the door behind Sierra. "Something _did_ happen. What?" Sierra stayed silent. "Fine, don't tell me; I'll guess then. Um, you had a huge fight; no... That would explain the awkwardness, but not the tension. Hmmm... he kissed you... you kissed him." Sierra stiffened slightly. "I'm close! OK... not kissing, but… more than that... Oh, my God!" She jumped up and clapped her hands over her mouth. "You _so_ did not!"

Sierra clenched her eyes shut as a wave of nauseating guilt washed over her. Regret and shame filled her, making her heart sink to her stomach. She sat down abruptly on her bed and dropped her head into her hands.

"Oh, Sierra," Yuko said gently. "I'm so sorry; I didn't realize…" the young pilot sat down beside her on the bed.

Sierra sighed, her heart filling with dread. "This was never supposed to happen," she said softly. She felt Yuko's hand on her shoulder.

"Well, what did you expect would happen?" she said as kindly as she could.

"I thought that we'd go to Chicago, make small-talk over a drink or two, and then just ignore each other until we got home. I never thought that we'd –" Sierra bit her tongue to stop her outburst.

Yuko patted her on the arm in a comforting way. Sierra sighed again and rubber her forehead. There was a brief silence before Yuko stoke again.

"So," she started. "How was he?"

"Yuko!" Sierra exclaimed, jumping up from the bed.

"What?" Yuko said, innocently. "It was just a question. You know, half the women on this ship think that man is super fine –"

"Well I'm not one of them," Sierra said defensively. "And may I remind you that you're talking about a superior officer?"

Yuko almost laughed as she stood up to face her. "C'mon, Sheppard, are you telling me that you don't think that the major is a major hunk?"

Sierra hesitated before answering. "Yes."

"You're lying, and you know it. Why else would you have done him if you didn't think he was worth it?"

Sierra felt her face flush. Not just at Yuko's choice of words but at the truth in them. Though she would never admit it aloud, Sierra did think that Mitchell was a very good-looking man; and she had seen him naked. The image of Mitchell's firm, toned torso rose in her mind; his strong arms, those perfect pecs and broad shoulders. He was all man. Sierra felt the heat rise in her face again and turned towards the door.

"Hey," Yuko called. "Where are you going?"

"Gym," Sierra replied as she grabbed her towel and stepped into the hall. Yuko's scoff of "Yeah right" was drowned off as she swung the door shut behind her. Truth was she had some steam she had to work off.

She had never intended Yuko to find out, but she had guessed it straight up. She hoped that others wouldn't be able to figure it out as quickly as her roommate did. She sighed again as she entered the gym and spotted Mitchell spotting Banks on the weights. It was all getting way too complicated.

-----XXX-----

A week later and three thousand light-years from Earth, whilst doing a scheduled check on the _Prometheus_' systems, somehow found Sierra and Mitchell trapped, alone, in a control room for two hours with no light (except for that of their torches), minimal heat and whatever air that had already been in the room. A lock-down had been triggered so the doors were sealed shut, and for some reason the life-support system. Afterwards, they found out that someone had overloaded a major circuit whilst running checks in Engineering.

After about an hour of silently sitting as close as they were comfortable with, Mitchell spoke up. "So…" he said. Sierra glanced sidelong at him after he said nothing after that.

Sierra took a deep breath, which she decided was a mistake after inhaling a lungful of Mitchell's aftershave. Her body ached with the memory of his hands on her skin, the taste of his kiss, and the smell of his hair. "Shit," she whispered under her breath as she kneaded her temples to try to get the memories to go away.

"You OK?" Mitchell asked, shuffling closer to her, concerned. Sierra looked up at him, but his face was mostly in shadow; just like the night in the hotel room. Sierra turned away from him and surged to her feet.

"Yeah," she replied, her throat a little raspy. "I'm fine, just a headache." She heard the major stand as well and come to her side.

"Sierra…" he started but she cut him off.

"Sir," she said, barely a whisper. "Don't."

He sighed. "We gotta talk about this, Sheppard."

"We did already."

"No, we haven't." He came to stand in front of her so she couldn't ignore him. Sierra stepped away from him. Didn't he know what kind of an effect he had on her? "We work together, Sierra," he said, stepping closer to her again until her back met the wall. "Our lives depend on each other and I know that you are a professional… but I don't want there to be this awkwardness between us every other time."

"Can't we just acknowledge what happened," Sierra said looking at a point somewhere on his overalls, "and never speak of it again?"

"These things are never that simple, you gotta know that." Sierra nodded; she did know all too well. He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, you're a very attractive woman, believe me, and I don't want you to think that I was takin' advantage of you at all…"

Sierra said nothing. Of course she knew that he hadn't taken advantage of her – it had been her that initiated it. Mitchell pressed his lips together. He gave her a look that spoke volumes to her and turned away to lean against the nearest console.

Sierra sighed gently and leant her head back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. "This is all my fault," she said. Mitchell glanced over his shoulder at her. "I was the one who kissed you; both times. You shouldn't blame yourself. It's my fault." She smiled lightly at the memory of the conversation she had with Yuko the other day. "I couldn't keep my feelings in check."

"Feelings?"

Sierra looked up at Mitchell, her gaze sliding off his face. "Yeah; I guess you could say I got it bad." She looked down at her feet. "You're a very… appealing man."

Mitchell nearly laughed. "Appealing?"

Sierra shrugged. "Appealing, handsome, sexy, hot – pick one." Sierra watched as he blushed slightly. "Is this what you meant by talking about it?"

Mitchell laughed lightly and sat next to Sierra on the floor. "Close," he said. They sat in silence for another hour before light and ventilation were finally restored and the doors opened.

-----XXX-----

Another week or so passed and Sierra and Yuko talked more about what had happened in Chicago; good girly talks. She had managed to convince Yuko to keep her newly discovered gossip to herself, but Sierra knew that it wouldn't last long, especially on a ship this size; they all practically lived in each others pockets as it was. And their squadron was becoming a tight-knit unit. Sierra knew that she had no worries about Mitchell telling anyone – his career was on the line here, too, so if he breathed a word of their night together to anyone, then it would quickly find its way to the ears that mattered. At least one good thing had come out of her "talk" with Mitchell: she didn't feel as awkward around him.

Then came the day when they received the call to stations by none other than General Hammond. Anubis was on his way to Earth and apparently the President had asked him to do this one last thing before he retired for good. Instead of meeting the enemy in space as they came out of hyperspace, they were instead heading to Antarctica to cover SG-1 who had found something interesting on the barren field of ice. Sierra stood with the other pilots as Mitchell took them through the pre-flight briefing.

"Doesn't matter where they are, or what it is they're doing," he said to Lieutenant Ash when he questioned their mission. "It's SG-1 and we're going to cover their asses."

Sierra could feel it in her gut that this could possibly be the biggest battle they would have been in to date. She glanced around at the people around her and could see the anticipation in their faces. She made sure to commit every face and name to her memory. For the last six months or more she had fought with and beside all of them (both verbally and physically), bled with them, ate with them, and was willing to die with them. She couldn't remember when she had worked with such a fine squad of pilots. She turned to Yuko and tossed a smile at her as she headed to her plane.

"For Carrie," she said.

"For Carrie," Sierra repeated and knocked her helmet against the other woman's. It was then that Mitchell turned to her.

"You're not flyin' with me on this one," he said.

"What?" she blurted, momentarily dumbfounded. "But, Sir, I'm your co-pilot – I have to –"

"You're flying lead with Tander – Jones is in the Infirmary still, and Green's put in for shore-leave."

Sierra raised her eyebrow. "His wife had the baby?"

"Yeah," he said as he adjusted the straps on his helmet. "Banks is flying with me and Tander's your co-pilot."

Sierra frowned. "Why not just team Banks and Tander together? They've sorted out their –"

"Because this way, you get to fly stick," he said cutting her off. "I've already approved it with the general. I'm promoting you, Sheppard. Shut up and take it."

Sierra blinked at him. "Even after I screwed up during that test run?"

Mitchell nodded. "You've proved that you have overcome that, and it's made you stronger. You deserve this, Sheppard. Now get in that plane; we gotta be airborne in five."

Sierra nodded and snapped a salute in place, which he returned followed by a small nod. Sierra dropped her hand before pulling on her helmet. When she looked up again, he was already heading back to his 302. "Sir!" she called after him. He turned back to her and she jogged to his side.

"This doesn't have anything to do with… Chicago… does it?"

"No," he replied, with a faint smile. "You deserve this, Sheppard. Now get your bird in the air." With that he pulled his helmet on and strode away from her.

"Yessir," Sierra said, barely audible above the roar of engines and the clatter of engineers and ground crew scurrying about her.

She stood, momentarily dazed as the calamity of around her reached symphonic levels. This was something she had been waiting for for years. She hadn't been promoted since… well, since after Afghanistan. One who worked at a desk did not get promoted quickly at her level.

"I have the best job in the world," she said to herself as she headed towards her own 302 as the first of her squad began to scramble. She climbed into the cockpit and nodded to Tander, who was beginning his pre-flight checks.

"Congratulations, ma'am," he shouted to her as she lowered the cockpit canopy. "And welcome aboard."

"Thanks, Tander. How's it coming?"

"All systems are in the green; we're ready to go."

"Right." Sierra cleared herself with launch control and soon they were set. She punched the throttle forward and shot out of the hanger and joined the rest of her squad in the air. For the first time ever, Sierra got the front seat view out of one of these things, and she loved it. "I hope you're not too much of a back-seat driver, Tander."

Her new co-pilot laughed. "_No, ma'am,_" came his reply over the comms. "_My girlfriend is, but. That's why I always let her drive_."

Soon the whole squad was in the air and Sierra's heart was racing. It was a mixture of excitement and dread. She knew better than most of these young pilots exactly what it was like to go into a dog-fight like this was sure to be, and had hoped that she would never have to experience that again. But she had known that this could be a possibility when she left her classroom, and only had herself to blame.

Still, she was in the seat of the most advanced (and most expensive) fighter jet on the planet, about to come against an alien enemy and do speeds at close to 7 Gs and not feel a thing. She had heard from someone that Colonel O'Neill once said that the F-302 handled like a Cadillac on the ground. She now had the privilege to say that it handled the same in the air.

Smatterings of comm chatter broke into her thoughts as she and the other pilots began to prepare themselves for the fight ahead of them. She did her checks, the routines she had seen Mitchell do a hundred times before, and announced her readiness with the other pilots.

Then ahead of them, a tiny blip appeared on the radar – a cargo ship. SG-1. And beyond them, a swarm of death-gliders approaching much too quickly. Judging by their trajectory, they were headed straight for them – and the cargo ship.

Anticipation made her pulse race. Soon Mitchell gave the order to engage. She pressed the trigger on the stick in front of her and loosed a target-guided missile into the death gliders that were hurtling towards them. The sky was peppered with explosions and shrapnel. Then suddenly the remaining gliders were on them. Sierra swerved to her right to avoid a glider dead in front of her, but the 302 beside her wasn't so lucky. She struggled to keep the ship stable as the explosion shook them. Swearing under her breath, she squeezed off a couple rounds of bullets.

She made it through the swarm unharmed and circled round to take out a glider that had taken aim at Yuko and her pilot. She saw the energy blast from a glider whiz past her own ship, just missing the wing.

"_We got company!_" Tander yelled.

"I can see that!" Sierra called back as she banked to the left and dived towards the icy surface of what Sierra had to remind herself was her home planet. She skimmed across the ground, twisting in her seat to try and see the glider pursuing them. She banked right again around an iceberg and met a dead end. Her sharp reflexes allowed her to initiate a climb that slammed them both back into their seats. The cleared the wall of ice, but the glider following them wasn't so lucky. Sierra circled around to see the fiery wreckage of the glider before guiding her plane back towards the battle.

"_Nice job, ma'am,_" Tander said as Sierra selected a glider that was pursuing Redmond.

"Thanks Tander. What's our status?" Sierra could have checked herself but she wanted to keep her focus on the battle.

"_All engines are in the green, fuel is at 70% and we still have nine missiles left._"

"Great, let's kick some butt."

"_Yes, ma'am,_"

Sierra fired off another missile at her target but swore loudly when it was intercepted by another glider. Sierra powered towards the fighter, intent on taking out the ship tailing her fellow pilot. It was then that she noticed an Al'kesh heading towards the cargo ship that SG-1 was in. Sierra heard Major Carter request assistance and then heard Mitchell respond. She took out the glider tailing Redmond and turned to watch the burning fragments of the Al'kesh rain down into the snow. It was then that she noticed that Mitchell's ship was smoking.

For some unknown reason panic had begun to rise in Sierra's chest. She opened her mouth to ask Mitchell if he was alright but froze as his ship was hit by a weapon's blast. Through the ringing in her ears she heard Mitchell report a mayday and she watched as his ship began a steady dive towards the ground.

Tander's voice filled her ears, telling her that there were two gliders locking their weapons systems onto them. Sierra immediately pushed the feelings aside and concentrated on the two ships coming at her. She executed a quick reverse-dive, flipping the ship back over upright again. She fired off two missiles in quick succession, both slamming into the ship on her left. This shook the other enough to break their weapons-lock. Sierra then managed to squeeze off another few rounds before it breezed past. Sierra looked back to see that the pilot had lost control of his ship and it was going down.

"_Nice shootin', ma'am,_" Tander said from behind her. Sierra barely heard it; her attention immediately turned to Mitchell. She flew low and scanned the horizon for his ship, sure that it would have hit the ground by now. And then she saw it: a column of smoke and snow above a small debris field. Sierra angled her ship towards it.

"_What are you doing, captain?_" Tander asked. "_We don't even know if he's alive._"

"Why do you think I'm going, Tander?" she said with dread in her heart. "I gotta know." The last words were uttered so low that no one could hear.

Sierra did a quick check to make sure that none of the enemy ships were following her, before making a quick pass over Mitchell's ship.

"_Ma'am,_" Tander said to her. Looking down she noticed that he had turned the comms off. Only she could hear him. "_I know this seems like a good idea now, but you gotta think about the consequences_."

"I thought you weren't a backseat driver, Tander?"

"_I'm only saying what I think, ma'am_." Sierra landed the plane on the rough terrain as best she could. It didn't stop Tander wincing as the metal creaked and began to shrink in the rapidly cooling temperatures. She then taxied the 302 as near to Mitchell's plane as she could before it got bogged in the thick snow.

"_Look, Ma'am, I want to help the major as much as you do, but I don't think_ –"

"Tander, you're not going to be liable for this, OK. I'm acting on my own and you're following orders. When I get out, you're to rejoin the battle."

"_You're gonna stay here?_"

Sierra nodded as she pulled out her emergency pack. "Someone's gotta make sure he's alive. And I'm not going to jeopardize your job too." She leant over to pop the canopy.

"_Mitchell's gonna be furious at you_," Tander said.

"I know." She hit the manual release and let the freezing Antarctic air into the cock-pit. Gasping at the sudden change of temperature, Sierra unfastened her mask and harness, and threw her leg over the side of the plane.

As her feet hit the ground, she bit down against the blistering cold. She waved her arm above her head indicating to Tander to take off. As the jet powered away from her she shivered started to climb up the torn wing of the 302. she reached over and hit the emergency release for the cockpit lid. It jerkily lifted, its gears starting to freeze in the icy wind, the same wind that went straight through her uniform and into her bones. Sierra wore no protective clothing, just her thermal jumpsuit, standard issue boots, and her helmet. She knew that the temperature was somewhere around -30 and she also knew that she wouldn't last long in this cold.

Sierra levered herself up to the level of the cockpit, tossing the emergency survival pack in and looked in at Mitchell and Banks. Mitchell's head had slumped forward to rest against the opposite side of the cockpit, not moving, and Banks' open eyes were dead and lifeless. Sierra stared at him.

_That could have been me_, she thought her breath hitching. She managed to tear her gaze away from Banks and reached in to press her fingers to the side of Mitchell's neck. There was a pulse, but it was weak and thready.

One glance at him told her he was in trouble. Sierra had no doubt that he had sustained injury in the crash and could see blood splattered all around the cockpit. The smashed cockpit window had left cuts across his face, and his lips were already cracking and blistering in the cold. If he was going to survive this cold she had to get him warm and protected from the cold. At that second a transmission can bursting through the speakers on their headsets.

"_Thousands of bright… I don't know! They're coming from the surface. I don't know what they are. They're cutting the enemy fleet to shreds! My God, it's beautiful!_"

Sierra looked up through the blizzard of snow and ice that was beginning to roll in as the sun set, and saw a trail of golden light shooting up from the approximate location of SG-1's cargo ship.

"Yes!" she cried as she saw it. "They did it!"

A groan of pain pulled her gaze back down to Cameron. His eyes were open, but unseeing. She could see a faint smile on his lips as he listened to the voices over the radio, cheering and celebrating as the balls of light destroyed Anubis' fleet. And then his eyes slowly closed again.

"Cameron!" she cried out, shaking him by his collar. He winced and scrunched his eyes shut. Sierra immediately let go, afraid that she might cause him more injury.

"Hold on, Sir!" she called to him as she dug into the survival pack and brought out some heat packs and a space blanket. She swung her legs inside the cockpit, and placed the heat packs around him; under his armpits, between his thighs and behind his neck. She then unrolled the blanket and folded herself inside the cockpit, right next to him so as to lend her body heat to him. It was surprisingly roomy in the cockpit, with Cameron smooshed up against one side. She could see blood staining his side, most likely from a piece of shattered glass or the corner of the control console on that side of the cockpit.

Sierra prayed that he wouldn't bleed to death before they were rescued, and tucked the space blanket around them as best she could. She slid down the visors on both their helmets to protect their faces, and tucked her head in against his chest.

"Please, God, let this work," she whispered to herself as she suppressed a shiver. Reaching over Mitchell, she pressed a button and the shattered cockpit canopy dropped down over them, even though it offered very little protection from the icy winds.

She knew that if they survived this, then she would be reprimanded. She didn't care right now. She knew that Mitchell would be mad at her when he found out that she had risked her career trying to save his ass, but it was already done.

Biting cold nipped at her exposed skin; the back of her neck and where her gloves didn't quite meet her jump-suit. She felt the major shudder beside her, accompanied by a painful moan. Sierra briefly felt panic brimming in her chest, sure that he was deteriorating faster than a rescue was arriving. The wind had rolled in quicker than she thought possible and their chances of survival were falling fast. She could tell that the temperature had fallen at least ten degrees in only a matter of minutes. That, and the fact that Mitchell was bleeding out.

Sierra mentally slapped herself for doing this; abandoning the fight to attempt a fool-hardy chance of a rescue, without the proper equipment; now that was something her brother would do. It wasn't normally like her to do things like this, especially when there were people up in the sky that needed her help and could still be saved.

She felt Mitchell shiver again and realized that heat was escaping too quickly from the blanket and that a change of position was needed. Sierra swung her legs over his, sitting squarely in his lap. She was then able to nudge one shoulder in under his armpit and wrap her other hand around his neck, effectively trapping the heat between them. Her spare hand tucked the space blanket in closer to them

Sierra closed her eyes, praying with all her might. Her mother had always taken them to church when they were young, but she, Sierra, had never really believed in God. Now, with her CO's life, and hers, in anybody's hands, she prayed that someone would find them; and find them soon.

-----XXX-----

The next thing Sierra knew, she heard the sound of a ship hovering over their heads. Sierra cracked her eyes open, squeezing them shut again when they were hit with bright search lights. The din of the engines was enormous, but very distinct: the main engines of the _Prometheus_.

Relief flooded through her as she realized that they were about to be rescued. They would be using the heat sensors to try and locate their life signatures. But would they be able to discern them from the surrounding ice. She tried to move her arm, but her limbs were numb. _No!_ she screamed in her head. She struggled, trying to move, but her joints refused.

"Wait!" she silently cried, her lips chapped and her throat parched. "We're here!" Sierra concentrated on moving her arm, getting the blood heated and moving again.

Suddenly, as though a switch was thrown, feeling began to return to her muscles and heat spread throughout her body, emanating from her diaphragm. It spread quickly, heating her skin and making her shiver at the cold wind that blew over them. She raised her arm over her head and waved it back and forth. She waved and waved until she suddenly became weak again, her arm falling uselessly to her side. A sweat broke out on her forehead and suddenly the jump-suit was way too warm. She felt like she was on fire, her heart beat quickening and the blood pounding in her ears. Her breathing quickened, the hotness of her breath condensing immediately as it left her body, leaving droplets of moisture on the inside of her helmet.

The heat inside her body was so intense that she could feel little else. She didn't even feel the change in environment as the _Prometheus_ beamed her and Mitchell into the Infirmary; if anything it got hotter. Soon, pain began to pierce her body in random places, and then she felt the searing pain all over. Awareness began to return to her and she felt cool hands on her skin accompanied by rough material. Someone seemed to be toweling her dry. Sierra opened her eyes and saw several nurses standing over her with drying towels, and a very baffled HMO that was prepping a needle to draw blood from her arm.

She also saw a large tub of water not far away. She also noticed that the fever that had made her blank out earlier was gone. She felt warm and comfortable, if not a little chilled by the cool, filtered air in the Infirmary. She did feel very weak and drained, as well as dehydrated, and simply lay still as the nurses dressed her in tacky, powder blue scrubs.

Soon all the nurses left and the doctor approached. He took more blood from her arm and smiled at her as he passed her a glass of water with a straw. Sierra took a few sips, but couldn't manage any more. She swallowed the water as best she could but still choked on it. The nurses returned, followed by General Hammond.

"General!" Sierra rasped, attempting to salute, an action hindered by the amount of blankets the nurses were now wrapping around her.

"At ease, Captain," Hammond replied. The warm and fuzzy vibe that Sierra usually got from the general was absent at the moment and his face wasn't one of pride. It was full of disappointment. Sierra felt the familiar feeling of shame that usually came when her father gave her that look. She had let him down.

"Sir, I can explain –" she started.

"No need, Captain," said the general, cutting her off. "While your actions were honorable, you willingly abandoned your post and disobeyed your standing orders. That is grounds for court-marshal."

"Yessir." Sierra lowered her eyes. She knew that arguing would not make her situation any better. The only thing she could do now was accept her punishment as gracefully as possible.

General Hammond sighed. "You are, until further notice, under house arrest and will not leave this Infirmary until we arrived back in the States." The general turned to leave.

"Sir," Sierra called. "How is Major Mitchell?"

Hammond had stopped in the door of the Infirmary. "It's too soon to tell. The doctors are saying that if he had've been out in the weather much longer, he wouldn't have made it. You saved his life." With that he turned and headed back to the Bridge.

A warm, satisfied feeling began to override her feeling of failure at his words. She had saved the life of her commanding officer and there was no greater satisfaction.

-----XXX-----

The _Prometheus_ waited in its position for another few hours or so as they waited for SG-1 to finish whatever they were doing in the outpost they found under the ice. During that time, Hammond placed two guards at the doorway to the Infirmary to watch Sierra, while the doctor decided to hold her for observation. No matter how many tests they ran and how much blood they took, they still couldn't explain what had caused Sierra to get such a severe – and brief – fever. According to all the blood cultures she had no infections or diseases. They had to send her blood and DNA to a separate lab to find out if it was something genetic, but for the mean time she had been given a clean bill of health.

Mitchell on the other hand was a different matter.

Sierra stood next to his cot, her arm wrapped around her I.V. drip (the doctor determined that she still needed more fluids) and watched as the spiked line showed the beat of his heart. His neck had been braced, his wounds cleaned and dressed, his injuries scanned and X-rayed, and the prognosis delivered: broken bones, damaged spinal column, internal bleeding, severe concussion and hypothermia. There was a definite chance that he may never walk agian. He was hooked up to more machines than her mom had been during the last stages of the cancer that took her life.

Sierra tried her hardest to look him in the face, but her eyes slid off his bruised and battered features. Instead she tried to hold his hand, but she couldn't even manage that. Guilt filled her and tore at her heart. This was her fault. She should have been flying with him; she would have been able to keep him safe! She sighed, leaning heavily against the cold metal I.V. pole.

It was now that she realized that she was more like her twin brother than she wanted to admit. John had always held himself responsible for all those around him. Whenever something went wrong, John had always managed to find a way to blame himself. It was part of his nature. And apparently genetic.

Sierra sat down on a stool next to Mitchell's bed and dropped her head into her hands. An hour ago, when the nurses had wheeled Mitchell's gurney into the space next to hers, the doctor had informed her that Captain Adam Pierce and Captain Yuko Gander's 302 had been shot down in the last moments of the battle. He also told her that four other 302s had been destroyed during the battle, not including Mitchell and Banks. Thankfully, Tander had made it out alright and had come by to visit her earlier. He met her eyes once, glanced at Mitchell and then stared at his knees until she told him to go. Though he never said it, Sierra could feel his blame directed at her.

Sierra looked up at Mitchell and finally found the strength to look him in the face. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath and reached out and gently clasped his hand.

Realization dawned on her. She had made this decision; everything she had done since taking this job had led her to this point – the point where it was all about to be taken away from her. She tried to imagine her future and failed to see past arriving in Washington DC for her court marshal.

At that moment, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c of SG-1 walked ('wandered' was a better term for it) into the Infirmary. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c bobbed their heads in her direction as acknowledgment of her presence, but seemed dazed and exhausted. Major Carter looked like she was on the brink of bawling her eyes out.

There was no small talk as the nurses checked over the remaining SG-1 members, the elephant in the room not spoken of due to the obvious sensitivity of the absence of their leader. Sierra wondered if they felt as bad as she did.

As soon as SG-1 were aboard, the _Prometheus_ left the area. It was a relatively quick flight to US Air Space and within an hour and a half Mitchell was being transferred to the Military Hospital in Colorado Springs. Sierra herself was taken back to the SGC and placed in her quarters with a guard on her door. After a debriefing with Dr. Elizabeth Weir, the civilian who had replaced General Hammond as Head of the SGC, Sierra was allowed to move about the base. Restrictedly, of course. She was allowed in the Mess Hall, the gym, the locker rooms and the Infirmary. Almost all other places were blocked off to her and the permissions on her access card had been changed. She had also seemed to pick up a groupie in the form of a staff sergeant.

She wasn't allowed in any of the labs, or anywhere near the Gate Room, the Control Room and the Briefing Room. There were also whole levels that were cut off to her.

She sighed as she tried to push the darkened button for Carter's lab. The lift refused to move. She sighed again and pushed the lit button for the gym instead. She had wanted to go see Major Carter to see if she was alright after what had happened in Antarctica, what with her CO being trapped under the ice with an alien library of knowledge in his head. Sierra guessed she might know how the major felt. Instead she headed to the gym to work out.

As Sierra showered afterwards, she wondered how long this would last. How long would she have to be followed by a SF everywhere she went? What would be the result of her trial in front of the JAG? Would Mitchell recover? Only time would tell. And Sierra defiantly didn't believe in fate.

* * *

**A/N: Please watch this space for more information – coming soon. Just kidding. Hope you liked it; there's heaps more to come! Please review. **


	6. New Order

Howdy all! I hope you have all had a fantastic Christmas! I just spent a bit of yesterday and today finishing this chapter. I'm determined to get it done before I head off on holidays for a week. This one's not as long as they have been in the past, but is still around the 5000 word mark. I really hope you all enjoy this one. Please let me know if you find any problems with some of it as I don't exactly have much experience in that area. And for those of you who are getting impatient, I'm hoping to take us to the Lost City in the next chapter. Though, considering the possible length, I may have to break it down into two parts. Enjoy!

**Mail Bag:**

To **jasminesmommy**, about the 5 years thing, I kinda meant the thing in Afghanistan, not his posting at McMurdo. I'll have to do some more research into all that anyway. I'm glad you like this and that you recognize the subtleties that I tried to add to make her more like John.

To **EvilAngelsIceQueen**, it's hard for me not to feel bad for her too. But I'm planning on making things a little easier for her in Atlantis.

To **Rataniel**, I think your English is very good. Thank you very much.

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks very much four your review. I'm really glad you are enjoying this story. I love getting reviews like yours – it keeps me writing.

To **City of Atlantis**, the wait is over! Things aren't all happy days for Sierra just yet, kinda opening old wounds in this chapter. But I won't give too much away!

To **EvaFlack001**, thanks heaps for your review. Sending Mitchell to Atlantis would solve a lot of things for Sierra, but would also cause quite a few problems, I think; one being her over-protective brother, the other, the time line. I am trying to keep to the timeline set out by the creators of the franchise. I will be trying to weave my way around the current plotlines. Don't worry, I won't change heaps, in fact I hope to not change anything at all. Think of Sierra as an extension, another character that just sits in the background; another set of eyes, so to speak. Anyway, I'm really glad you like this. Please keep reading.

To **baileylak**, I hope I can keep up the standard for you! I'd like to think that Sierra is very much like her brother in that way, that she won't accept leaving a man behind enemy lines. Of course, this is a little different to what happened with John, what with Sierra and Mitchell's history and all. Still, makes for good readying, I hope.

To **Asugar**, this is the chapter where all your questions are answered! Sierra faces her punishment for her desertion, we find out what happens between her and Mitchell, and you get to see how she reacts to it all. I hope you like this chapter.

To **Emagen Laile**, allow me to welcome you to the gang! Thanks heaps for your review. I'm trying to keep it as real as I can. Thanks again.

Thanks so very much to all who reviewed! I'm glad that so many of you are enjoying this story. Please keep reading.

-----Chapter 6 – New Order-----  
Sierra gazed stoically across the poker table at Walsh as he nervously rearranged his cards again. She glanced at Argenzalino, who sat on her right, and raised an eyebrow at her. The Latino woman, also the SF who had been following Sierra around for the last five weeks, had folded a little while back and returned it with a half smile. Walsh, who had watched them, quickly glanced around at the other two at the table, who had also folded. They gazed back at him and said nothing. Walsh gulped.

His eyes darted around the table before he said, "Alright; call." He dropped three blue chips onto the rather large pile in the centre of the table, followed by three twenty dollar bills.

_At least he's smart enough not to raise it_, Sierra thought. Walsh, being the new kid on the block, was still pretty green and this was the first time he'd joined their twice-weekly Poker night. He had started off well, surprised and cocky about his luck. But as his luck would have it, he started getting bad cards. Now it was just down to Sierra and Walsh and, as Harper had said earlier, it was a classic example of 'open mouth; insert foot'.

Sierra chuckled lightly and showed her hand – straight: King high. Her eyes remained on Walsh's face as she watched him pale and his shoulders slumped. He dropped his cards in front of him; a pair of threes. Sierra couldn't help it; she smiled, wide and smug.

Harper, the major sitting next to Walsh clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Ha, ha! Guess that'll teach ya when playin' with the Big Boys."

"Ah hem," Argenzalino coughed pointedly at Harper.

"And girls," he added before he scooped his rather small pile of chips and bills into his cap. "Same time Monday?" he asked around the table.

"Definitely," replied Walter, "My wife's got her pottery class at two-zero hours."

"Pottery classes?" Harper said, wrinkling his nose. Walter nodded with a similar expression. "What about you two," he said nodding at Argenzalino and Walsh. They shrugged, indicating that they'll be there. "Sheppard?"

Sierra, who was the only one still sitting, shook her head. "No. They finally managed to settle on a date for my court appearance." Finally, after nearly a month of procrastinating, the J.A.G. had finally decided that her case was worth looking at. The atmosphere in the room stilled and became quite somber. "I'll be back guys; it's cool."

"Maybe," Walsh said in a hush voice. "But you, kinda, you know... _deserted_." The last word was barely a whisper. "They used to give you a 21-gun salute!"

"I'll be fine, lieutenant," she said firmly, the forcefulness of her voice masking the doubt in it. She picked up the bag she had brought her chips in and loaded her winnings into it. The others looked away and out of the corner of her eye she saw Argenzalino indicate to Walsh to drop it.

She and Argenzalino walked back to their quarters talking in soft voices so as not to disturb the other inhabitants of the base. Though it was late, there were still lights on everywhere. As they walked past Teal'c's door they could smell rosemary-scented candles burning. Someone was typing rather enthusiastically on a laptop. Argenzalino's quarters were around the corner and two doors up from Sierra's. They nodded to the guard, Sergeant Lane, who stood there and Sierra said goodnight.

"Ma'am," Argenzalino said as she opened the door. "I'm sure everything will be OK on Monday."

Sierra gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Lisa."

"Anytime, ma'am."

Sierra turned toward her door. "Don't you ever get bored, Lane?" she said to the SF standing by the door.

He gave her a quick smile. "No, ma'am." He pulled an iPod out of his pocket. She laughed.

"Well that explains the terrible singing I hear some nights. 'Night, Lane."

"Goodnight, ma'am."

-----XXX-----

With three days left until her trial, Sierra was finding it hard to think of anything else but. That was until Dr. Jackson asked her to join him at breakfast Friday morning, saying he had news about Mitchell. Her previous CO had had three separate operations already, in only a month, and was scheduled for another four in the coming weeks. He had nearly died from a blood clot last week and was hooked up to more machines than Jackson had ever seen. The archaeologist offered to take Mitchell a message next time he went to visit, but Sierra declined. There was no point. If she ever managed not to go to prison the second they convicted her, then she would go see him herself.

And even if she wanted to give him a message, she didn't know what to say. That and the fact that he was still unconscious. Jackson said that he had woken up for a few seconds during his visit, but that was it. Sierra left the Mess feeling deflated.

The rest of Friday and the weekend went by in a nauseating haze, and then it was Sunday afternoon. She snuck into the briefing room while Argenzalino dashed off to the bathroom, and watched the Gate Room through the window. Here, she thought about Mitchell.

She remembered the day they had first met. It was right here in the SGC, only three floors above her head. She had tried to go to that briefing room, but the elevator wouldn't even open the door for her. The briefing room was so much easier to sneak into.

The first time she and Mitchell met he had shaken her hand, not requested a salute. He had called her by her first name, something he did as often as call her by her surname. He had included her in discussions, not pushed her into the background. He asked her opinion for a lot of the situations they found themselves in. He was everything a good CO and teammate should be. And unbelievably, so much more.

Sierra remembered with great clarity everything that happened that night in Chicago. She remembered the way he made her feel, the way he held her possessively, but gently. She remembered how it had felt breaking every anti-frat regulation in the book. It had felt… fantastic.

Someone coughed behind her. Sierra spun to find Dr. Weir standing at her office door. She opened her mouth to try and explain herself but closed it again when she realized there was no point.

The diplomat raised an eyebrow at her. Sierra sighed.

"I had to get one last look at it," she said. Weir nodded, tucking a chocolate-brown curl behind her ear.

"I know how you feel," the other woman said. Sierra glanced at her sideways as she came to stand beside her at the window. "It's my last day today," she said.

Sierra saw through the open office door, that there were a number of boxes piled around the room. "Where're you off to, Doctor?"

"Antarctica, I'm told. By special request from the President."

"_The_ President?" Sierra said, impressed.

"Yes. I've been invited to dinner at the White House and I'm not sure what to wear." Sierra laughed softly, in a way much similar to the way Mitchell would laugh at her jokes. She sighed.

"Are you worried about your trial?" Weir asked.

"Yeah, to be honest. And I'll be the first to admit that my chances don't look great."

"I've been told that you're usually more optimistic than this."

Sierra laughed dismissively. "Maybe. But it's hard to be upbeat when you're facing desertion charges. There's no greater sin in the Armed Forces." Sierra paused, feeling her heart beating uncomfortably fast. "I'll be lucky to make it out of there alive."

Dr. Weir lowered her eyes, clearly not knowing what to say. Sierra understood. They stood side by side, watching as Siler ran diagnostics on the Stargate. It promptly sparked, nearly knocking Siler off his ladder. Dr. Weir made to go to the Control Room to check on him, but Sierra stopped her as the technician managed to regain his balance.

"He's OK; happens to him all the time." Weir cast a worried glance at her as Sierra shrugging her shoulders. "So," Sierra said. "You gonna miss this place?"

Weir shrugged again. "I don't know. I'm sure not going to miss trying to out-negotiate a gang of Goa'uld system lords."

Sierra had heard about that. Of course she hadn't been allowed anywhere near the… narcissistic aliens, even if she wanted to. However, she had caught a glimpse of Camulus as the SFs had taken him to a holding cell; he was… hot. There weren't many other words to describe him. Sierra felt oddly sick with herself for even thinking that an evil system lord could be so fine. Dr. Weir was looking at her strangely.

"What?" Sierra said defensively.

"Oh, nothing," the other woman replied. "You just had an interesting look on your face. Kind of like a sly smile."

"I did not!" Sierra said with a laugh. "With all due respect, ma'am."

"Call me Elizabeth, captain."

"Sierra." They nodded once at each other before returning their gazes to the window.

"So," Elizabeth started. "What were you thinking about?" Sierra laughed again and opened her mouth to tell her it was nothing important, when there was a knock on the door. They turned to see Walter.

"Colonel O'Neill's here to see you, ma'am," he informed them.

"Thank you, Sergeant." She turned back to Sierra. "You'll be fine tomorrow. I'm sure of it."

Sierra watched as she headed back to her office.

-----XXX-----

Sierra felt incredibly uncomfortable in her Dress Blues. She had never been a fan of them, right from the day she joined the Air Force. But Sierra had been in the Force long enough to know what was expected of her. She had asked an SF to pick her uniform up from the dry-cleaners the Sunday before she flew to Washington DC, polished her heels and gotten a haircut. While appearances were everything, Sierra had never really bothered to wear much make-up for this kind of thing.

She currently sat in the very uncomfortable, straight-backed chair in front of the J.A.G. panel. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing barely controlled. Her stomach was churning, her hands were shaking. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap to try and stop them, but as always, it translated to her feet and she was bouncing her heel up and down.

She had known that this was coming, from the second that she ordered Tander to take off without her. She had risked her entire career, possibly even her life, just trying to save Mitchell.

Sierra had seen the results that disobeying orders caused and how court-marshals ruined lives. She had vowed after the war that she would never put herself in a position where that was possible. What a waste of time that had been! She had thought that being a teacher was the best way to not be caught up in that. It worked for ten years, and then she ended up being reassigned; right into the place where it would happen. Sierra knew she was way too much like her brother and that given the chance she would follow her heart, not her head. And so, here she was.

Glancing behind her, she saw the newly promoted General O'Neill sitting in the last row. He had knocked on her door that afternoon, an hour before her trial, to escort her. He also said he was also going with her as moral support and would not hear a word against it. For some reason he kept giving her encouraging gestures and smiling. Sierra couldn't understand how he could get her hopes up when she they were about to be crushed to dust! Didn't he realize that her head was on the chopping block? She swallowed and looked back toward the panel.

The highest ranking officer, the general in the middle, began reading off the charges against her. Sierra barely heard any of it. She heard her name mentioned a couple of times, and Mitchell's. But she didn't absorb anything. She heard something about the President and some recommendation (probably some other form of punishment, Sierra thought) and then there was the sound of a hammer on the desk. Sierra blinked. What was that? Why was the panel collecting their papers and standing to leave? Had she been convicted already?

She raked her brain to think of what had just happened. The middle general, Dobbs she thought it was, had said something like, "And in accordance with the President's recommendation, you, Captain Sheppard, shall not be incarcerated. Instead you will be reassigned to the –" Sierra lost focus there. Not be incarcerated? What kind of sick joke was this?

Sierra sat in her chair staring at the retreating backs of the panel of judges. This wasn't possible, she thought. This shouldn't be happening. She should be being carted off to rot in prison for the rest of her natural life!

She cast a quick glance at the MPs standing at the edges of the room. They stood at attention until the generals had left the room, and then turned on their heels and forwarded out themselves. She remained rooted to the chair.

Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped a foot in the air. "Easy, Sheppard," said General O'Neill, who had come to stand behind her.

She looked up at him. "What the hell just happened, Sir?" she asked, her voice quaking.

He smiled. "You were cleared, Captain. Congratulations."

Sierra surged to her feet and turned to face him. "But I don't understand it, sir. I'm guilty."

"Yes, but the J.A.G. took into account the fact that you did it to save your commanding officer, and co-pilot. You were also the one with the most kills out on that battle field, Sheppard."

Sierra blinked. "I didn't know that. I take it I won't be getting that promotion, then?" The general shook his head. "What was that thing about the President?"

"Ah," O'Neill said as he guided her towards the exit. The room was now empty except for the two of them. "Well, when Dr. Weir and I were at dinner, we talked to the President and he wanted to help you out. Hope you don't mind." He seemed quite pleased with himself.

Sierra couldn't say anything. She was stunned that _THE _President, of the _United States_, had a hand in the result of her trial. That he was the one who said she shouldn't go to prison and be reassigned instead.

"Um, Sir?" she asked as he guided her to a taxi that was waiting outside. "Where am I being reassigned to?" It didn't please her at all that she wasn't going to be flying 302s anymore.

"Antarctica," he replied with a shudder. "Gah, I hate that place." Once they were in the taxi, he told the driver to go to a bar nearby. "Dr. Weir'll be your new boss. You'll be Head of Security for the new complex bein' built there. Best thing is you get to keep your security clearance."

Soon the cab pulled up in front of an officers club. Sierra cautiously looked at O'Neill. "What are we doing here, sir?"

"Celebratin' o'course." The general guided her in with a hand on her back. Celebrating? Celebrating what? The fact that she wasn't being punished? Or the fact that she was going to be posted on the other side of the world? She thought being posted on a space ship was bad enough. Well, that she could handle, because her job made up for the distance from home. But this? Now she was being posted on the most remote continent on Earth, at a desk and no where near a plane or a classroom. This was going to be her own personal Hell. God, at this rate, she won't hear from her brother ever again.

Sierra followed General O'Neill into the Officers Club with a sour face and looked about. This being Washington D.C. she doubted that there would be anyone here that she knew. Or anyone that knew her. Sitting at the bar, the general ordered them some drinks.

"Why are we really here, Sir?" Sierra asked taking the stool next to him. She glanced around the dim, gloomy bar. She saw a general sitting in the corner with a young, blonde lieutenant getting a little too cozy for regulations.

"Here," O'Neill said as he passed her a glass of Jack Daniels, forcing her attention back to him. Sierra raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, his brand-new general's stars gleaming in the light of the dimly lit bar. "C'mon, Sheppard, you could use a stiff drink. And we're celebrating – enjoy yourself."

Sierra bit back an offhand comment she wanted to say, and took a sip of the hard liquor. Sighing, she set the glass back on the bar top.

O'Neill raised his eyebrow at her. "What?"

Sierra shook her head. "It's just that this isn't an outcome I was expecting today. I'm still trying to come to grips with the fact that I'm not going to prison. I had letters written and everything." O'Neill gave a knowing smile.

"Takes almost gettin' sent to prison to really appreciate what you got, doesn't it?"

Sierra raised an eyebrow. "What was it for you?"

"Gettin' an alien library crammed into my head – twice."

"That why you took the promotion, sir?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I'm definitely gonna miss goin' on missions with my team. Hey, maybe I'll have more time to go fishin'."

Sierra smiled. "Yes, sir." On their second round, the general got a call on his cell. It was General Hammond. Apparently the President wanted to talk to him about something, so he paid his bill, and for her next drink, and left, saying that he'd meet her at the hotel tomorrow. Sierra nodded and then returned to her drink to think about her day.

Antarctica: the most remote and dangerous place on the planet; a place that she never wanted to go back to. Not in a million years. An image of Mitchell, lying in a hospital bed, shattered and broken, rose in her mind threatening to smother her. Shaking her head she managed to clear the image and took an extra large gulp of her rum, draining the last of it. Wincing as the drink slid down her throat, she ordered another from the bar tender. Someone came to stand next to her and ordered the same.

She glanced up at the officer, feeling his eyes on her. He was young-ish, no older than herself, with brown hair and green eyes. His face was one that Sierra probably would remember. But she was cursing humanity's limited gene pool when she noticed that he shared features with both Mitchell and her brother.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a silent question of _Who the hell are you?_. Taking his glass from the bar-tender, he introduced himself as Major Evan Lorne. She turned in the stool to face him, hand on her hip, asking another silent question, _And what do you want?_.

"Just thought you might like some company," he said in a purely innocent tone and taking General O'Neill's previous seat. Sierra rolled her eyes and focused on her drink after noticing the general in the corner escort the lieutenant outside to the taxi rank. It was dark outside. She ordered another one after that one and soon realized that the alcohol might be going to her head, because she let Lorne buy her the next two rounds. Before she knew it he was helping her into a taxi and climbing in beside her.

She wasn't entirely sure how they both ended up at the door to her hotel room, or why he was pulling at her dress jacket. Then she was on the bed and he was inside her, kissing her neck and nipping at her skin. She wasn't sure how she let that happen, but she liked it. Memories soon came to her foggy mind, disorienting her.

"Cam!" she cried out with renewed desire.

"What?" Lorne breathed, pulling back to look at her.

_Shit_, she thought, cursing the alcohol she had drunk. "Nothing," she breathed and drew him in again. Twenty minutes later, they collapsed in a heap, the fire burning out. Sierra let her breathing return to normal before heading to the bathroom to splash water on her face. The water was soothing on her flushed skin as she tried to come to grips with what had just happened. She had just had sex with some major she had just met, and called out the name of her ex-CO right in the heat of it. This was _so_ not like her.

Sighing she went back into the main room and slid under the covers next to Lorne. In the semi-darkness she could almost believe that he was Mitchell. She turned her back on him as a headache burst into existence. Lying down on the pillow, she tried not to flinch as he shuffled closer to her, draping his arm over her. As strange as this was, she would have preferred a different major holding her in that moment.

Closing her eyes, Sierra again had to banish the image of Mitchell in a hospital bed before sleep would come.

-----XXX-----

The second the sun came up, Sierra was wide awake. Managing to slide out of the bed without waking the major, she gathered her clothes and took a fistful of aspirin and a shower. The cool water soothed her headache a little, but not enough. It pounded persistently behind her eyes, creeping down her neck and settling in her shoulders. She gave up trying to shrug it off and turned off the water. She dressed in civvies for the plane trip back to Colorado and began to pack up her things in the bathroom.

She walked back into the main room and tossed her toiletries loudly into her suitcase. The prone figure on the bed twitched and sat up. Sierra glanced at him quickly before continuing to pack.

"Ugh, wha's goin' on?" he murmured.

Sierra cleared her throat. "I have a plane to catch."

"Right. Uh, what time is it?"

"Oh-six-hundred. You can order room service if you like – the Air Force is paying for it."

"Um, OK." She heard him swing his legs over the side of the bed. "Look, I… wanna see you again."

Sierra gave a small laugh. "I don't think that's gonna be possible."

"Why not?" he asked.

Sierra turned toward him, looking for her dress shoes. "Because I've been reassigned to Antarctica."

"Oh," he said eyes downcast. "I'm… sorry to hear that."

"Yeah." They didn't say too much more as Sierra continued to throw her things together. She managed to separate her dress uniform from his and put it back in its bag. Just then, a wave of familiarity washed over her. Déjà vu from that time in Chicago. Suddenly her heart began to ache, intensifying her headache. She winced.

"You OK?" Lorne asked.

She nodded and stiffly zipped up the bag. She slammed her suitcase closed and dragged it to the door. She looked at Lorne again, sitting on the end of the bed. She said a quick goodbye before ducking out the door without another glance. The pain in her heart didn't go away.

O'Neill met her in the lobby. He cast a look over her harassed expression and raised an eyebrow. "Late night," she lied. He shrugged and helped her get her stuff into the waiting cab.

The plane trip back was uneventful. She got a quick nap, but almost as soon as she had closed her eyes, they landed at Peterson. This time, she checked her messages on the car ride back to base; nothing.

She sighed, guessing that wherever John was, he was still there and hadn't gotten back. Not that it mattered a great deal anymore.

O'Neill must have called ahead, because as soon as the elevator opened on the floor for the living quarters, Sierra was bombarded by applause and hugs. Harper, Argenzalino, Walsh and Walter had been waiting for her and as soon as she stepped off the elevator, they dragged her down to the V.I.P. room where they had organized a small party. Sierra tried to smile.

She stayed as long as she felt was polite and excused herself, claiming that she was tired from the trip. They let her go and continued their party by themselves. Sierra went back to her old room and lay down fully clothed. Unfortunately, she was far from tired. The pain in her heart had not abated since she left the hotel that morning. She couldn't really understand it. All she knew was that she had been thinking about Mitchell and Chicago when it had started.

_Oh, God_, Sierra thought. _That's it_. It had to be. She knew what this pain was – she felt like she had betrayed someone: Mitchell. She felt like her thing with Lorne last night had been some kind of an affair; like she was being unfaithful to Mitchell. But that was absurd! She was never dating Mitchell! Besides, it was against the regs!

It was also some kind of sick reminder that what she and Mitchell had done was wrong. A reminder that he was the reason she had gone to Washington. That he was currently lying, comatose, in a hospital bed. The ache increased.

She then remembered that she had been given her opportunity to see Mitchell. And do what? Sitting up, she reached for a pad and a pen and began to write.

-----XXX-----

Sierra cautiously poked her head through the doorway to Mitchell's room. It had taken her a lot to finally get out of the car and walk to the front desk of the hospital. A short, brown haired woman, with a heavy accent met her and showed her to his room. All the while she talked about his condition and his up and coming operations with a somber tone.

"Are you his partner?" she asked as they stopped outside his door.

Sierra stared for a moment, thrown by the question. "Ah, no. No I'm not." The doctor nodded once. "I was his co-pilot, though. I was there…"

A flash of recognition crossed her face. "You are Sierra? Sierra Sheppard?" Sierra nodded. "He mentioned your name once, when he woke up last time. It was just for a second, though. You saved his life." Sierra nodded again. "I'll leave you to it."

The doctor had left then, and Sierra had opened the door with caution. She knew that he was still unconscious but there was a chance…

She perched on the edge of the bed, next to his limp hand. Jackson was right – it was pretty bad. He had tubes coming from him everywhere; IV, breathing tube, feeding tube, pulse monitor attached to his finger, catheter snaking under the sheet. It took all her strength to just touch him.

She gently took hold of his hand, biting her lip and expecting him to wake up. She relaxed a little when he didn't. She wasn't so sure why she was glad he was unconscious. Surely having him awake would be better, but she wasn't sure she could do this if he was awake.

Taking a deep breath, she started.

"You have no idea what it took for me to come here. I wasn't sure I could face you. Face this." She gestured at all the tubes. "Jackson warned me, but… I guess I didn't want to believe it. I got this thing in my head that you're indestructible. This… makes losing you all that more possible. So, I'm cutting myself loose." Taking a deep breath she pulled a letter out of her pocket. "It's all in here. I hope to God you get a chance to read it. It explains everything. Why I did what I did in Antarctica… and why I'm doing what I'm doing now." She paused, sighing. "I don't regret anything," she continued. "And I hope you don't either." She leant in closer to him, her voice lowering. "Please don't hate me for what I'm doing. It's probably better this way. I care too much… to do this to either of us."

She felt his hand tighten for a moment and her heart leapt with hope. "Cam, can you hear me?" Nothing. His eyes didn't open, his hand didn't move again and his vitals didn't change. "Cam?" Sierra's heart fell again to somewhere near her diaphragm. Closing her eyes she gently pressed her lips to the back of his hand and set it on the bed again. Getting up off the bed she placed the note on the bedside table. She leant over him, her hand on his shoulder and softly kissed his bruised cheek.

The heart monitor gave an extra beep and Sierra looked up at it. Frowning, she looked back down at him; straight into his ice-blue eyes. She couldn't help but smile.

"Sierra," he whispered. It wasn't a question but more of a statement, acknowledging her presence.

"Hi," she whispered back. "Good to see you up." She gave him a small smile.

"You're leaving." Sierra wondered how much he had heard her say. She just nodded. "Why?" She picked up the note and pressed it into his hand. It tightened around her fingers. "Stay."

It felt like her heart was being torn out of her chest. "I can't. I've got orders." He seemed to understand that. He nodded infinitesimally and closed his eyes again. She pressed her forehead to his. "I'll come back," she promised, but she knew he was unconscious again.

-----XXX-----

The kid next to her had to be younger than twenty-five. He had introduced himself as Lieutenant Aiden Ford when he had sat down next to her on the crowded light-weight plane. He was nice enough, excitable and enthusiastic, and a Marine. Currently, his head was rolled back and he was snoring slightly.

There were ten of them all up, including the pilot of the plane. In the seat behind her, Dr. Weir was looking over something in a file on her lap; next to her was a Scottish medical doctor, Carson Beckett. In the seat in front of her, two scientists were having a heated discussion with one across the isle from them; Grodan, McKay and something Chez, Zelenka? Sierra believed the one called McKay was the one whose volume was rising as the discussion grew more and more heated. Dr. Jackson was in the seat behind the pilot, with a set of earplugs in his ears. The other two were military personnel that hadn't introduced themselves on the tarmac in Hobart.

Sierra glanced back down at the page in front of her, reviewing the protocols that General O'Neill had impressed on her just before she left. But with the rising volume in the cabin, she couldn't concentrate. Marveling at how Ford could sleep with all that going on, she tried to imitate him. She leant her head against the window and gazed down at the frozen ocean below.

She was tired, not having been able to get much sleep since she visited Mitchell in the hospital. Now, as she felt slumber creep upon her, she replayed her visit to him in her head, knowing that dreams were on their way. She hoped that her dreams this time would be something other than torture. But no matter how many times she dreamt of happiness with Mitchell, she could find nothing in them but pain.

-----XXX-----

AN: Hey all, I hope you liked this chapter. Please, don't be shy – tell me what you think. And remember, your reviews keep my imagination alive.


	7. Rising, Part I

Hey all, a new chapter fresh off the press. It didn't take me as long to write this one, which is surprising considering how many words it is. Before I get to the mailbag I would like to thank GateWorld and those who take the time to do the transcripts for each episode – they helped me out to no end on this chapter. Please enjoy.

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks very much for your review. Seeing as this story is based around the _Atlantis _series, I like to throw in some slightly obscure references to the other characters in the show. You have to admit it, though, McKay _does_ have a loud mouth.

To **ArianneG**, all of your wishes are about to come true! Well, not exactly true, but your questions and theories will be revealed. To reassure you, I'm not going to drastically change anything. John will still become the ranking officer, and so on. I want to honor the writers by keeping it as real as I can.

To **Emagen Laile**, I hope the wait hasn't caused you too much stress! I'm glad you're liking it so far. Please keep reading.

To **jasminesmommy**, I am glad to inform you that the wait is over. To all of you, who have been hanging out for this, please be upstanding for the arrival of John Sheppard.

To **neptune60**, thanks very much for your review. I'm not so sure about Sierra and Lorne either, but I felt that it was the right way to take the story. I promise you that I will be keeping the pre-set characters the same, and (as much as I want to) there won't be any John/Liz ship. I have an idea on what will happen with Sierra and Mitchell, but unfortunately, you'll have to wait for that. Please enjoy.

To **The City of Atlantis**, I wasn't sure if that would really happen, but hey, this is sci-fi! Besides, I couldn't just send her to prison – that would make a very short story. I'm sure you already know that she's going to meet John! What kind of a person would I be if I didn't let that happen?

To **Asugar**, I would love to tell you more about the future moments between Sierra and Mitchell, but that would be telling. I'm really glad you liked that chapter – I really enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed – please keep them coming. Thanks again to GateWorld!

* * *

  
-----Chapter 7 – Rising, Part 1-----  
Sierra walked through the halls of the Research Base with confidence. Lt. Ford had just radioed her from the Command Centre to inform her that a memo had arrived for her. She had been forced to abandon her barely-edible lunch and head there immediately. She nodded to one of the marines as she passed him in the hall. The sergeant's hand automatically went to his forehead in a salute, but she waved it away. She was still getting used to being the highest ranking officer on this base.

While being placed in a position of command was normally a reward for doing something worth noting, that wasn't really the case for Sierra. This was more like punishment for her. The President had definitely chosen well when deciding her fate. Sierra would rather have been demoted or sent back her classroom than be here. She sighed as another serviceman saluted her. For some people it was second nature, even desired, that they receive salutes. But Sierra hadn't joined the Air Force for the kicks of being an officer – she had joined for the flying. And until recently, she'd had the best job in the world.

The flip side of this situation was that it kept her busy. There were always reports to write, new personnel to debrief, and forms to sign. She had even had to participate in three rescues since being posted in this frigid part of the world. It was only when she was alone in her quarters that she time to think about why she had been sent here. Even now, Mitchell's pleading voice drifted into her mind. Shaking her head to clear it, she started singing the Scooby-Do song under her breath. It was something that she had always done when she was a child – a way of keeping unwanted thoughts from her mind.

She turned her focus to the stack of forms that would be waiting for her on her desk; acquisition forms for the Mess, the armory, and the Infirmary, transfer forms (at least a half dozen a week, both in and out) and what she liked to call 'permission slips'. In no time at all, her thoughts refocused.

She reached the Command Centre, which was really a tiny room at the entrance to the facility with a window where visitors had to sign in and out, and swiped her access card in the lock. Stepping inside, she moved to the monitor where her memo would be displayed. There were three others in the Command Centre, including Lt. Ford. Sanchez sat at the communications array, deep in conference with McMurdo; Hamilton stared blankly at the surveillance feeds that led to the main cavern fifty feet below them; and Ford was just looking bored as he leant back in his chair, feet up on the desk, and spinning his unloaded gun around his finger.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Ford," Sierra said as she prodded the monitor to life. The screen slowly lit itself and showed the memo on the screen.

"It ain't loaded, ma'am," he said, holding up the cartridge in his other hand to prove it.

"I know that, lieutenant," she replied. "I just don't want it to become a 'deadly _flying_ object'." Out of the corner of her eye, Sierra saw the young marine pout but tuck his 9mm back into its holster. She smiled to herself as she began to read the message.

It was from the SGC, specifically, from General O'Neill. It was brief, indicating his intention to visit them at the Research Base. He was intending to arrive within three days. With the weather as good as it had been for the last week, Sierra foresaw no problems with this, and sent an equally brief email back, confirming that she had received his message, and that they were looking forward to his visit.

Well, Sierra was at least. She had only spent a little bit of time with the newly-promoted general but she found that she liked him. She found him… refreshing. He definitely wasn't like any general she had ever served, but he was also a good man who would do anything for his people. That kind of trait was something that Sierra felt she could respect fervently.

"Well, boys," she said to the men all packed into the Command Centre. "Looks like we're going to have company." They all seemed to perk up at that. Sierra explained who was coming and why, and then sent a memo to everyone on the base that O'Neill was going to be arriving soon. It was then that her radio buzzed in her ear.

"_Captain Sheppard_," came the smooth, Scottish accent of the resident medical doctor, Carson Beckett. "_Do ye have a moment?_"

She touched her finger to her headset. "Be down in a sec, doc." Sierra made her way to the elevator and endured the journey down to the cavern with the infamous (well, infamous on _this _base, and at the SGC according to Dr. Jackson) Doctor Rodney McKay. He greeted her cautiously, still wary of her from the first day they had officially arrived. Sierra couldn't help but smile at the memory.

Dr. McKay was notoriously arrogant and therefore took personal offence to anyone that 'demoted' him to a mere civilian. On the first day of Sierra's command, McKay had been quite verbal about his opinion of the safety protocols that she had enforced upon them. Sierra had thought that her requests were quite reasonable, but McKay thought himself above such things as frost-bite and hypothermia. Sierra had to cross personal-bubble lines to get him to shut up, threatening him as lightly as she could, and with a great deal of restraint. The astrophysicist had finally gotten off his high horse, and not at all gracefully. It was soon evident to everyone that he was not a man that anyone could get on well with. He tormented his staff, tortured Beckett, and all those with the Ancient gene that Beckett himself had discovered, and was just a pain in the ass. Sierra could barely handle being in the same room as him for any length of time and was sure his ego wouldn't fit in the same state!

Finally the lift ride down was over and Sierra let him struggle with the door. When they made it out, she walked through the main cavern and headed towards Jackson's current 'office'. It wasn't much, just a hollowed out section in the passageway that was big enough to hold several thermal storage units for his books, a whiteboard and a chart of the known galaxy. She smiled as she saw Jackson hunched over a rubbing of the carvings on the west side of the cavern.

She headed past Jackson's hovel to the medical research labs, where little lights flashed and beeped at her. The place was filled with machinery and equipment, all of it serving some kind of purpose that eluded Sierra right from the day she had requested it all. Beckett sat near the far wall, head bent over his microscope, tapping absently on his tablet computer. As gently as she could she tapped him on the shoulder.

He was getting better at not jumping out of his skin; she had to give him that. At least he wasn't cussing anymore. Still, she couldn't help but smile at the relieved expression on his face when he saw that it was her.

"Oh, Sierra, love, you gave me a fright." He clutched his heart dramatically and smiled at her. "This place still gives me the creeps."

Sierra couldn't help but smile. "What's up, doc?"

He gave her a small smile before launching into his usual medical jargon. "Well, I've been looking into the research that Dr. Brightman did on your blood samples from your experience here in Antarctica a couple of months ago, and I think I may have made the connection. I think it could have something to do with your Ancient gene."

One of the first things that Carson did on their first day here was take her aside and explain to her that she was a carrier of the Ancient gene, a gene that allowed her to activate Ancient technology. He had revealed at the same time that he was also a bearer of this gene and its discoverer as well. At times (specifically when McKay was trying to force him to activate the Chair) he wished he didn't have it. Sierra had pleaded with Carson to get him to _not_ reveal to anyone else that she had the gene. The last thing she needed was to have McKay breathing down her neck, trying to get her to activate the stupid Chair. She had enough on her plate as it was.

Carson's words brought her back to the present. "In comparing your DNA to another ATA gene bearer, I've discovered that the presence of the gene is stronger in you than any other I've tested so far. I then started wondering what could have caused you to have that sudden onset of fever all those months ago." Sierra was doing her best to look interested. "You see, it is known that the Ancients were highly evolved humans, some with incredible powers."

"Like super-hero stuff?" Sierra interrupted.

The Scotsman shrugged. "It doesn't involve shooting lasers from your eyes, if that's what you're thinking. But the ancient girl that SG-1 found not far from here possessed the ability to heal others. It's possible some could also have similar abilities, like telepathy, Extra Sensory Perception, telekinesis."

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I think that when you started getting hypothermia, while you were out in that storm, your body tried to heal itself by making it warmer."

Sierra frowned. "I nearly overheated. How can that be healing?"

Carson shrugged again. "Perhaps your body started to fix itself by turning up the heat, but couldn't turn it off again."

"Are you saying I'm a broken radiator?"

He chuckled at her analogy. "No, love, I'm not. I'm saying that it could possibly have something to do with the ATA gene. If that is the case, then maybe it's just a case of learning to control it."

Sierra contemplated this. Could it be possible that her over-concentrated genetics were responsible for the fever that nearly cooked her brain two months ago? What were the other explanations? Infection? Ruled out by the doctors. Adrenaline? She'd had adrenaline rushes before and never had she gotten a fever. She tried to think back to her childhood, trying to remember if something remotely like this had happened before. Once, she had fallen into a really, really cold lake when she was ten, but her dad had just sat her near the fireplace and she was warm again in no time. There was a time when she fell out of the tree in their back yard and swore she broke something. But when they had taken her to the doctor's her x-rays were fine. No fever then and she could have simply imagined the break. It had been right after their mom died…

Sierra sat with the doctor for another half an hour as he talked endlessly about genetics and the possible links. Carson had been her first friend on this base and she was glad for the refuge from her work. That was until Dr. Weir came looking for her, wanting to discuss General O'Neill's arrival. The diplomat had received more details on his travel plans from McMurdo.

"Also, it says here, the general's being flown out here by helicopter, so we'll have to make sure the landing pad is cleared for when he arrives. Apparently the pilot's name is Sheppard. A Major John Sheppard." Sierra's heart skipped a beat on its own volition. "Is he any relation to you?"

Sierra couldn't trust herself to speak for a moment. She had to remember to breath. She looked up at Elizabeth who was waiting expectantly for her answer.

"Kind of," she said in a weak voice. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "He's my brother… my twin brother. We haven't really seen each other for a while."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. "Then I take it you didn't know that he's been stationed at McMurdo since the beginning of the summer."

Sierra's face didn't change. "No, ma'am, I didn't." Elizabeth took in her expression and didn't seem to believe her. "Honestly, Elizabeth, I knew it was somewhere remote, but I didn't think it was here." She seemed to believe that and nodded curtly at her before heading back to the main cavern.

Sierra remained frozen in place in the middle of the hallway. John was going to be flying O'Neill from McMurdo to the Research Base. What were the chances of that? Sierra had no idea that this was the posting that John had told her about in his last message six months ago. When John had first mentioned it, Sierra had almost been sure that he was stationed in the Solomons. She knew the Air Force wouldn't send him back to the Middle East after what happened there the last time, so it was either somewhere in the Tropics, South America or Asia. Nancy had though Somalia. That was the worst part about Special Forces – even if John had wanted to tell her where he was going, he'd never be allowed to.

Sierra had considered joining the Special Forces herself when John had made his request. But it had been too soon after the war and she knew that it wasn't what she wanted to do anymore. So she took up teaching instead. As a result, John's career for the next ten years was like a secret that loomed over their heads. It drove a wedge in between them that forced them further apart with every missed call. It took a long time for it to become visible, but Sierra could feel it happening. It had also destroyed John's marriage to Nancy before it had really begun. Despite the fact that she loved him a lot, Nancy couldn't handle the fact that his job involved him going to dangerous places on secret missions, never knowing if he'd make it back alive. Sierra also had a hard time coping with that.

And so it had been nearly four whole years since Sierra had seen his face. The last time she had seen him was at a birthday part that their dad had thrown for her. John had shown up, it being his birthday too, and Dad had practically thrown him out again. Sierra had sat with him in the gutter outside while they ate the cake that she had smuggled out to him. He had really only come to tell her that he was being transferred again. She was so irrationally angry with him that she didn't even try to call him until a few months ago.

McKay brushed past her in the hallway, bumping her out of her thoughts. He reemerged a few seconds later, dragging a complaining Carson in his wake. Sierra shook her head to refocus on her job. It kept her from thinking about these sorts of things. When she had time to herself in her quarters, where there was no escape, then she would have the time to think it over a little more. Until then, she had to prepare for the general's arrival.

-----XXX-----

Sierra was organizing the clearing of the landing pad before the general was due to arrive. She was quite nervous, not for the arrival of O'Neill, but more for the possibility of seeing her brother again. So to stop herself thinking about it, she helped with the last minute things. They had just received a large shipment of supplies that had arrived a day late and had to move quickly to get them cleared and stored. She was a little ashamed to admit that she liked the part about giving orders.

Almost all of the supplies had been moved when there was a shattering of glass from the dome. Sierra looked up in time to see a blur of yellow light streak across the sky. Sierra's heart fell when she realized that it was heading in the direction of McMurdo. She barked at the personnel handling the supplies to keep moving before dashing back inside. It was pandemonium. Inside the Command Centre, Sanchez was on the radio alerting all air traffic to be on the watch for the Ancient Drone. Hamilton was flicking through the security feeds to see what was going on in the cavern. Sierra told him to stop when she saw Carson sitting in the Chair with his eyes squeezed shut. It seemed that the doctor had inadvertently activated the drone that Peter Grodan had been working on for the last few weeks.

It was then that Sierra heard John's voice over the radio. She turned to Sanchez who was listening avidly to a helicopter pilot who had encountered the blob of light.

"_Break right_," she heard the voice of General O'Neill order. "_I said right!_"

"_Getting to that, sir_," came that all too familiar voice.

Sierra's heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. She tapped her radio with a shaky hand. "You gotta stop it, Carson," she said softly.

"_I know_," he replied through gritted teeth. The radios were silent and Sierra couldn't bring herself to think the worst. John was the best chopper pilot she had ever known. She glanced back at the security feeds.

Carson's face was bunched up in concentration, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. Precious seconds passed and then his eyes opened and his face relaxed.

"_I think I did it_," she heard him say. Her heart rate slowed a little as she turned back to Sanchez. He was calling the inbound chopper, requesting their status.

"_Well, we're still here_," John answered. "_Whatever that… thing was, it just dropped outta the sky. It seems to have stopped dead. We're still seven minutes out_."

Sierra sighed with relief and radioed the chopper's status down to Ford, who was in the cavern. She clapped Sanchez and Hamilton on their shoulders and headed back out to the dome. Though death had been adverted, Sierra's heart still wouldn't slow. How close had she come to losing her brother? What if he had of been killed by that drone just minutes before she had a chance to see him again? Sierra didn't think she could handle that.

There were noises from above her and she looked up see the maintenance personnel already starting to remove the shattered glass panel from the dome. They were going to replace it with a normal metal plate until another sheet of glass could be flown out.

Sierra headed back outside to check how the progress of clearing the landing pad was coming. They were nearly finished. She gave them a hand and it was cleared just as the chopped appeared on the horizon. Sierra debated with herself whether she be the one to meet them, or have Ford do it as her 2IC. But she knew her duty and it had to be her that met the general when he landed.

And so she waited by the entrance. Elizabeth had requested that she bring O'Neill down to the main cavern. Apparently Jackson had found something pretty important. Her thoughts on what that could possibly be were interrupted by a blast of freezing, cold wind slamming into her from the chopper approaching the landing pad. As the rotary blades began to slow, Sierra approached the chopper. She kept her face averted from the cockpit because of the wind, but also so that she wouldn't see the look on John's face when he saw her. Though he wouldn't be able to see her face, she had no doubt that he would still recognize her.

As she walked around the front of the cockpit, she chanced a glance up at him. His face was frozen in a look of shock, his eyebrows forming into a deep frown. His eyes were behind sunglasses, and she was glad at that, so she couldn't see his expression mirrored in them. Her eyes dropped again.

Sierra moved around to O'Neill's door and waited as the general jumped out. She snapped a salute for him.

"At ease, Sheppard," he said. Sierra chanced a glance over O'Neill's shoulder to John, who hadn't moved. His head had followed her but he had made no move to exit the helicopter.

"Welcome, General," Sierra said dropping her hand. Her eyes never left John's face. O'Neill looked over his shoulder at the man in the pilot's seat.

"Oh, yeah, I believe you two know one another."

"You knew, sir?" John croaked. The general shrugged.

"Yeah." He turned back to Sierra. "Now, I hope you guys got a nice warm espresso waitin' for me."

Sierra couldn't help but smile. "That can be arranged, sir." Sierra motioned for the general to follow her and walked back around the chopper towards the base. It was then that John made his move to get out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him struggle with the harness and the door, before stumbling slightly as he climbed out of the cockpit.

Sierra led the way to the entrance, the whole while feeling John's eyes burning holes in her back. She could sense that he was brimming with questions that demanded answers she couldn't give him, mostly due to his security clearance.

Inside the building, Sierra led them to the window in the Command Centre where they both had to sign in. She was about to guide the general to the elevator when he turned to John.

"What's your security clearance, Major?" he asked.

"Um," John said, his eyes flicking to Sierra. He had removed his sunglasses and she saw her own eyes looking back at her. "I don't think I have one, sir."

"Right," O'Neill said. "I can fix that." He turned back to Sanchez and asked him to place a call – to the Pentagon no less. The call took a few minutes to connect, and then O'Neill talked to someone who he called 'Sir'. He gave them John's name and serial number before hanging up. He turned back to John. "There you are, Major. Welcome to the club."

John's eyes flicked to hers and she could see his confusion in them. She gave him a small smile. "You'll see," she said and headed to the elevator. She couldn't help but snap into Head-of-Security mode. "Please remember that all you see here on this base is covered by the protocols of non-disclosure that your security clearance _will_ detail," she amended. She could almost feel John's confusion building as she sent the lift to the bottom of the shaft. She could also feel O'Neill's smugness at his achievement on bringing the two of them to the same place. She struggled not to roll her eyes at him and failed. He just smirked at her.

The elevator ride was long and very uncomfortable. When it was finally over, Sierra was relieved. She had thought of a hundred different ways and circumstances where she would see John again, but this certainly wasn't on her list. She had expected hugs and kisses and good times, maybe a couple of beers, too. But this silence wasn't what she had in mind. She hoped there would be time for her to explain soon, before he had to fly the general back.

Jackson met them at the bottom. There was a little banter that Sierra had experienced once or twice.

"Warm welcome," O'Neill said sarcastically.

"Wasn't me," Jackson said in a terse tone that told Sierra that they had been working together for _way _too long. "So, how'd you manage to, uh…" he trailed off.

"Keep my ass from getting blown out of the sky?" O'Neill finished for him. He pointed an arm at John who had stopped beside Sierra. "The exceptional flying of Major John Sheppard. He likes it here." Sierra shot a glance at her brother, her eyebrow raised.

"Exceptional?" Jackson questioned before turning to John as well. "You like it here?" John shrugged and cast a sheepish look at Sierra. As Jackson and O'Neill headed towards the archeologist's office, the general turned back to them.

"Hey," he said to John. "Don't touch anything."

"Yes, sir," he replied, slightly bewildered as he looked around the cavern. Sierra watched him intently, waiting for his bombardment of questions. Once he had given the whole room a once over, he turned back to her.

"What are _you_ doing here? Or more to the point, what am I doing here? And what's the deal with that 'security clearance' bull? What are you, like the Security Director, or something? What is goin' on here?"

Sierra couldn't help but smile. Sometimes he was just so predictable. Taking a deep breath and setting her hands on her hips, she started. "I am here because I was assigned here. You are here because apparently O'Neill requested you specifically to fly him out here, probably so he could play 'match-maker' and reunite siblings. The deal with the security clearance is so that you don't see something you're not supposed to see. I guess the general thinks you can handle it. Yes, I am the Head of Security on this base, so it's my job to make sure you don't leak any secrets to the wrong people. There are some organizations out there who would love the chance to exploit all of this." Sierra swept an arm to encompass the entire facility. "And as to what's going on here, you are so far over your head that you won't be able to see daylight."

John had the most bewildered look on his face as he tried to process her answers. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" he asked.

Sierra gave him a rueful smile. "Despite the misconceptions, John, I'd rather be here than anywhere else. You'll see what I mean about that if you stay long enough –" At that moment, Sierra's radio buzzed in her ear. It was Sanchez. She sighed. "Excuse me for a moment," she said to John.

"_Ma'am, there's a radio call in from McMurdo. Something about a mix-up in the latest batch of supplies._" Sierra sighed again.

"I'll be right up." She turned back to John. "Look, I gotta deal with something – can you please be careful down here? I'll be back soon." John leveled a glare at her that Sierra had sorely missed. She reentered the elevator and returned to the surface.

Trying to resolve an issue like someone's stuff-up when sending supplies was never easy. It required four different forms and a lot of details about the items that were shipped by accident. It had been nearly twenty minutes by the time Sierra got off the radio. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she let out an explosive sigh. It was days like this that she hated her job.

Finally she was done and she returned to the elevator and descended again to the cavern. On the way down she wondered where to begin in her explanation of things to John. At least he now had the right kind of security clearance. The clearance that the general had given would allow him access to all levels of the SGC. He could even get on board the _Prometheus_ if he wanted! O'Neill must _really_ like him if that was the case.

The elevator doors opened and Sierra saw that O'Neill, Weir, McKay, Beckett and Jackson were all gathered around the Chair. A map of the galaxy hovered over their heads. Oh boy, that meant –

And there was John, sitting in the active Chair, his eyes wide, confusion and anxiety on his face.

"What did you do?" Sierra couldn't help but shout. All heads turned to her.

"All I did was sit down," John replied, his voice sounding harassed. "What the hell is goin' on?"

Elizabeth was the one who answered, her eyes still fixed on Sierra. "It appears that you have the Ancient gene, Major," she said, her arms folded across her chest.

"That alien gene that doctor was talkin' about?" Sierra could sense a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

McKay turned back to John. "This is brilliant!" he said excitement lighting his face. "This is great – you're the first one who has been able to activate it so easily. I've gotta do a lot of tests, run a diagnostic, check the feeds – Major, can you just sit still for a moment –"

And suddenly John was out of the Chair. "Whoa," he said dancing away from it. "You are _not_ gonna experiment on me –"

"Of course not," McKay said. "I just need you to sit –"

"Uh uh, not happening," John said, heading towards the elevator. "With all due respect, sir," he added as he passed the general, who didn't try to stop him.

"Major, wait," Elizabeth said, following him to the elevator. Sierra didn't know what she was saying to him as she was feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinizing eyes of Jackson, O'Neill and McKay.

"I'm gonna go…" Unfortunately, Sierra couldn't think of anything she could do and left the sentence hanging, taking the opportunity to make her escape. Out of the corner of her eye she saw O'Neill and Jackson exchange a glance. Sierra headed back to the elevator in time to see John's feet disappear as the lift headed back up to the surface. She soon realized she had headed the wrong direction when Elizabeth turned to face her. The diplomat's eyebrows creased into a slight frown.

"I think we should talk," she said, her voice a little icy. Sierra followed her, her heart dropping. They stepped into Jackson's hovel. "You have it, too, don't you." It wasn't exactly a question and Sierra knew exactly what 'it' was. She nodded. "You should have told me."

"I know," Sierra said. "I know it was wrong of me to hide it, but I –"

Elizabeth cut her off. "Do you know what it is you have? You have the key to unlocking the secrets that this place holds! The secrets of the _Ancients_." Her voice took on a mystified tone and Sierra was beginning to feel quite guilty. This expedition to Atlantis meant everything to Elizabeth. "I just don't understand why you would hide this… gift."

Sierra sighed. "You've seen the way McKay treats Carson. I really didn't need that." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Look, I know it sounds stupid and unreasonable, but I just… don't need the extra attention right now."

"I don't understand. Is this about your court marshal trial?" Sierra shrugged, running a hand through her hair. "You do deserve to get off free, Sierra. You did what you did to save the life of a fellow officer, something very noble." Sierra winced. "It's true. And I'm glad that you aren't in prison, because we will need you in Atlantis."

Sierra looked up at her. "You mean, we found it?"

Elizabeth nodded. "We did. It's in another galaxy. And we can go there – soon."

"That's great," Sierra said. "I'm in."

The other woman smiled. "That's good to hear. Just promise me you won't keep any more secrets like this from me again." Sierra was glad to agree. Elizabeth's expression became a little more serious. "Now if only Major Sheppard was easier to convince."

"You asked him?" Elizabeth nodded. "And he said no."

Her face was grim. "Very forcefully. Do you think that you can change his mind?"

Sierra frowned. "You really want him that badly?"

"The more people on this expedition who have the Ancient gene, the more success we have of finding the city and utilizing it. You saw how easily your brother activated the Chair – if you're the same then imagine what kind of doors would open for you. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Alright, alright; I already said yes, didn't I?" Elizabeth smiled. "I'll talk to him. But I can't guarantee anything. He's very stubborn when he wants to be."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her. "It runs in the family, I think."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

-----XXX-----

John was standing outside in the snow, next to the entrance to the facility. Sierra handed him a mug of coffee as she came to stand next to him. He took it without a look at her.

"A lot to take in, huh?" Sierra said, casually. "I remember the first time I was told about it. I thought Kerrigan had lost his mind."

"So, that's how you got into all of this, huh? Your old boss?" Sierra glanced sideways at John, who hadn't moved.

"Yep. He got me into flying alien hybrid fighter-ships until I was reassigned here."

"Yeah, why was that?" For the first time, John looked at her. His eyes were back behind his shades again.

A flash of Mitchell rose in her mind, but she quashed it before it became permanent. "You don't wanna know," she said. "Elizabeth told me she asked you to join the expedition. She said you said no."

His expression was suddenly dark. "It's all gettin' too weird for me." He handed her his untouched mug and headed back to the helicopter. She watched him go with extreme disappointment.

-----XXX-----

Sierra was pacing. It was something that the Air Force hadn't been able to order out of her. The staff sergeant on the check-in desk kept glancing at her. She ignored him and looked at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Coincidentally, Sierra was waiting for John. She was currently back in Colorado Springs, at the checkpoint to the Mountain.

Sierra knew that John hadn't arrived yet as she had checked with the sergeant. O'Neill had charged her with making sure that her brother made it to the mountain. Apparently he had given the general a none too convincing 'yeah, whatever' at McMurdo and wasn't sure he was going to show. Sierra had called John half dozen times during the two weeks off they had been given to settle everything before they left the neighborhood. She had left him messages, none of which he had returned.

While normally, she would have been steamed about that, she knew he just needed time to come to terms with this new world. Sierra had taken time to come to get used to the fact that they weren't alone in the universe – that there was other life out there. But she wasn't as resistant to abnormal things as John had always been.

Twenty minutes later, Sierra was still waiting. There was only two hours now until they were scheduled to attempt the connection to Atlantis and he still hadn't turned up. She was running out of time. She was debating whether or not to go tell the general that he wasn't coming when the elevator doors opened.

John stepped out, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his lips pursed and a frown securely in place. Sierra was surprisingly glad to see him. She offered him a big smile.

"Late, as always," she said.

He lowered his head and ran a hand through his always messy hair, a trademark Sheppard action. "Yeah, traffic was a nightmare." When he looked up again he was smiling. "So," he said. "Off to see the Wizard?"

Sierra smirked. "Yeah, but we aren't going to Oz." They headed towards the elevator that would take them down to the lower levels. "So," she said, a little awkward. "Get everything finalized?"

He cleared his throat a little. "Um, yeah. I kinda haven't been around much to really start anything new, so it didn't take me long."

Sierra nodded, understanding. "Me, too. When I got stationed on the _Prometheus_, I already settled most of that." There was silence for a few levels. "You call Nancy?"

John growled. "Why would I?"

"She's your ex-wife, John. You don't think that she might wanna know that you're not gonna be around for a while?"

John shrugged. "It's not like there's a kid to think about."

Sierra made a sound of disgust just as the elevator opened. She shook her head and strode out ahead of him. He chased after her.

"Sierra, I'm sorry," he said when he had caught up. She didn't slow her pace. "Look, Nancy and I just aren't like that anymore. Besides, she's probably busy with her job and that Graham guy –"

"His name is Grant, John."

"Whatever, he's a lawyer and I don't like them on principle." Sierra turned to glare at him. "OK, I'm sorry; again. But I don't see the point. She doesn't have to care anymore."

Sierra stopped in the hall and turned to him. "That doesn't bother you?"

John shrugged. "Maybe a little. But I… I know that she hated me keeping secrets from her when we were married. If she asked where I was off to now, she'd hate it even more. She doesn't need to know that I'm going away again and might never be able to come back."

Sierra sighed, understanding. She looked back up at him again. "I take it you didn't call Dad or Dave, either?"

He looked away from her. "No."

Sierra nodded. "I thought not. Good thing I did, then."

John looked back at her, his eyes wide. "Don't worry," she said as she started walking again. "I didn't tell them anything you wouldn't want them to know. I told them that I'd talked to you and that you were doing OK. I said that we were both shippin' out to South Africa and they seemed to accept that."

"By 'accept', you mean 'tolerate'."

Sierra ignored him. "And I think Dad knows by now that neither one of us are going to take over the business. While he may not like what the both of us get up to, at least I take the time to make contact."

"Whoa," he said angrily, blocking her passage. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sierra leveled him with a hard gaze. "It means, that if you at least made the effort to call him once in a while, then he mightn't hate what you do so much." John shook his head, his eyes sliding to the walls. "He still loves you, John. He always will. The least you could do is _try_." Sierra moved past him and walked the last few feet to the Woman's locker room.

-----XXX-----

Sierra was helping Dr. Beckett pack his equipment back into its case under the ever-scrupulous gaze of Colonel Sumner. She chanced a glance up at him and found his hard eyes fixed on her. She saw his dislike for her clear in his eyes, though his expression was surprisingly neutral. She had expected this reaction to her presence on this mission.

Sierra had met Colonel Sumner before during the Gulf and knew that he was a second generation military man, his father a general and a war hero in Vietnam. Sumner was also a marine – the most ruthless branch of the military. Marines were trained to follow orders without question, obey and command, fight and die.

Sumner hadn't had a problem with her when they had last met, but Sierra knew that her circumstances had changed. The fact that Sierra had abandoned her post during battle was on her permanent record now, for everyone to see. To someone like Sumner, the fact that she hadn't gone to Leavenworth was the worst kind of blasphemy imaginable.

She managed to tear her eyes away from his and tried to concentrate on what her hands were trying to do. Carson knelt next to her to place a few more items in the box.

"This is going to be a nightmare," she whispered to him under her breath. Carson glanced at her before looking up at the colonel. His eyes dropped back to the equipment.

"I don't think he likes me much either," he whispered. Sierra couldn't help but smile. They soon had everything packed up and Sierra straightened in time to see John walk in. He moved past Sumner, picking up on the colonel's hard glare. John tried to hide his smirk as he came to stand next to Sierra.

"You all set?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Sierra breathed. "I take it you've noticed that Colonel Sumner's the one in charge."

John nodded as Dr. Weir marched into the Gate Room. "I think he likes us," he whispered as Elizabeth called for attention. Sierra suppressed a returning smirk as Elizabeth turned to address everyone assembled in the Gate Room.

"Alright, here we go," Elizabeth started. "We are about to try to make a connection. We have been unable to predict exactly how much power this is going to take and we may only get the one chance at this, so if we are able to achieve a stable wormhole, we're not going to risk shutting the Gate down. We'll send in the MALP robot probe, check for viability and go; everything in one shot." Elizabeth paused to look around the room. "Now, every one of you volunteered for this mission and you represent over a dozen countries. You are the world's best and brightest; and in light of the adventure we are about to embark on, you are also the bravest. I hope we all return one day having discovered a whole new realm for humanity to explore, but as all of you know, we may never be able to return home."

Sierra felt her own heart rate accelerating. Adrenaline surged through her system, making her palms sweat as the rested on her P-90. She swallowed the dryness of her throat. Never before had she faced a mission as big as this one. Never before had she been so far from home. This was another galaxy for Christ's sake! What kinds of unimaginable horrors could be lurking on the other end of the wormhole? She took a deep breath to calm herself. This was what she was trained for, after all. Next to her, John was surprisingly composed.

"I'd like to offer you all one last chance to withdraw your participation," Elizabeth continued. There was a moment where Sierra considered actually taking that on. But she knew that there was no where else she could go. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to handle teaching again, not after everything she'd seen. She considered taking Mitchell up on his request for her to stay. But there was no guarantee that she'd stay in Colorado Springs. She doubted that she'd ever be able to request her own assignment again. She'd probably end up back in Antarctica, doing John's old job. No, she'd never be able to go back to her old life. Here, _this_ was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. And the best part, John was right there next to her.

Sierra barely heard Elizabeth tell Walter to begin the dialing procedure; she was already turning to John. The colonel's voice from behind him made her freeze.

"Let me make myself clear," he said loud enough for both Sierra and John to hear. "You are not here by my choice."

Sierra saw John roll his eyes. "I'm sure you'll warm up to me once you get to know me, sir," he said, a smirk on his face. Sierra cast a significant glare at him, which he completely ignored.

"As long as you remember who's giving the orders." Sumner's glare turned to Sierra, who swallowed dryly. His eyes held a very different message for her. His gaze broke off and he moved over to where two marines clipped his pack to his vest.

John cast a smug glance at Sierra before saying, "That'd be Dr. Weir, right?" Sierra couldn't believe her ears. She elbowed him in the ribs, but he hardly felt it through the Kevlar vest. Sumner's hard gaze turned to ice.

"Are you insane?" Sierra hissed at him through her teeth. "You want to make our lives a nightmare?"

"Relax, Sierra," he whispered back.

Sierra just gazed at him in disbelief. Then she heard the colonel's voice very close, in her ear.

"You're life _will_ be a nightmare, captain," he said softly. "If I have anything to do with it." A shiver crept down her spine. Sumner moved back to where his men were getting ready.

"Oh, crap," Sierra said to John.

John's eyebrow arched towards his hairline. "Gee, I think he like you more than me."

At that moment, the wormhole connected and the vortex punched itself from the Stargate. John flinched back beside her. She laughed lightly.

"You'll get used to that," she said as the MALP moved toward the event horizon.

"Yeah, right," she heard John whisper back. "So, you used to go through this thing?"

"Yeah," she said. "I've been through it a few times. You'll get the hang of it."

After a moment the colonel led the first team up the ramp, assumingly under an order from the Control Room, as Elizabeth reentered the Gate Room. She and Colonel Sumner moved forwards and disappeared through the event horizon. The first team followed closely behind them. Sierra and John followed Lt. Ford up the ramp and took their places, waiting for the order to proceed.

"What're my chances of survival?" he whispered to Sierra. She saw Ford's uncontained grin behind his back.

"Slim. One in three are never rematerialized." Sierra couldn't help but laugh at his barely controlled expression. "Relax, John, it's perfectly safe." Sierra could honestly admit that she missed making fun of him.

"_All clear_," came Sumner's report through the radio. "_Looks good_."

Sierra glanced up at the Control Room and waited for O'Neill's order. "_Expedition team, move out_."

A frown had formed between John's eyebrows. "What's it feel like?" he asked cautiously.

Sierra shared a glance with Ford before the lieutenant schooled his face into one of seriousness. "Hurt's like hell, sir." Ford's serous face held for another two seconds before he cracked a huge smile and leapt backwards through the wormhole with a 'whe-hee'.

John hesitated until Sierra put an encouraging hand on his back. She watched him take a deep breath and then plunge forward. Sierra paused at the top for a moment before glancing back at the Control Room. O'Neill gave her a gentle nod.

This was it. This was the crucible; the moment that her whole life had led up to. Every decision she had ever made had led her to this point. The ultimate test.

In the fraction of a second that she hesitated, one face rose in her mind. It was Cameron Mitchell's on the first day they met. It was what she was giving up, who she was leaving behind. And then, almost as though she was reading it at that moment, the letter she wrote to him when she left for McMurdo came to her memory, clear as day.

_Cameron,_

_If you're reading this, then I've had leave. At the time I'm writing this, you were lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Something that's no doubt my fault. I wish that I had the courage (and the time) to tell you this in person, but I don't think that I'll be getting that. By now, you've probably heard what I did in Antarctica during the attack from Anubis, so I'm willing to bet that you are very angry with me. But I want you to know why. I did what I did that day because I care about you. A whole lot more than what's allowed. I don't know if you feel the same, but I can't risk knowing. I know that your career means a lot to you, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was responsible for that too. _

_I don't know where I'll be by the time you read this, so I want you to know that it's been an honor to serve you. You were the best commanding officer I've had to date. Good luck with your recovery, and with the rest of your life. _

_Goodbye._

And then she plunged, head first, into a new world.

-----XXX-----


	8. Rising, Part II

Hi again! Sorry it's been a while since I updated, but I've been a little busy. Went on a fantastic cruise to Vanuatu and the Loyalty Islands before going back to work. Anyway, new chapter to add. You've probably gotten a notice about chapter 1 – I was reading it the other day and happened to notice some HUGE mistakes in it, so I've tidied it up. And don't tell me you didn't notice.

This chapter is a wee bit longer than the other chapters (an average of 4000 words longer!) but I didn't really give myself a lot of leeway when I split the pilot episodes in half. It probably would be better to be three parts, but I'm not sure where else I would have split it.

Once again, I would like to thank those at GateWorld for the time and effort they make to do those transcripts. I owe them hugely now. For those of you who have seen the pilot recently, you may notice a few things that are not exactly the same, but this is an AU, please remember. I tried to keep it as close as possible, while throwing Sierra into the mix of things and I hope I've done OK.

Oh, well. Let's continue shall we? But first, the mailbox!

To **cflat**, thanks. It seemed plausible, and slightly poetic to have O'Neill be the one to bring them to the same place. Plus I couldn't resist. (Evil laugh!)

To **BlueDragon007**, I had to think back a lot as well! I've also been thinking a lot about the end of the series (sniffle!) and what I'm going to do with Sierra. The transcripts from GateWorld were my lifeline though, and helped no end. I'm glad that you liked my added scenes. Those ones actually petty much wrote themselves. Thanks!

To **jasminesmommy**, keeping Sumner around would have been a nice change, but I had to admit that it never really crossed my mind. I read a fanfic story once where that happened (AU of course) but I found it hard to imagine. He was only a brief character in the show but I guess he was likable enough. I knew certain enough that he would have a big problem with Sierra (because she abandoned her post) and I kind of think that he would have made things way too difficult for her. But it would have been an interesting angle.

To **Emagen Laile**, thanks. I am surprised myself how well she fits. In my head, she was like an extension of John Sheppard, but it's never the same when you get it onto paper, is it?

To **The City of Atlantis**, thanks. I'm glad you like it; there's more John/Sierra interaction on its way. For five whole seasons! (OMG!)

To **Asugar**, no need to beg – the new chapter is here, finally. I'm glad you liked that chapter. It surprised me how well it flowed out of my mind. I figured that since Sierra and John haven't seen each other in a long time that it would be a bitter reunion. I'm thinking that Sierra is a little more tame than John at first, but he does seem to mellow out a little as the series progresses.

Thanks, all for reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts on this story. Now, please buckle your seatbelts, and hang on as the story dives on! Thanks!

-----Chapter 8 – Rising, Part 2-----  
Stepping into the cool, stale room at the other end of the wormhole, Sierra took a moment to absorb her surroundings. In the eerie blue light from the Stargate, she saw that they had arrived in a large room of some kind. The vaulted ceiling was at least two-stories above their heads, with glass and metal walls. A sweeping staircase faced her, with a huge stained glass panel above it. The stairs led to balconies that overlooked the room, with darkness beyond them.

As she proceeded away from the 'gate into an open space, Sumner gave the order for the security teams to spread out. Sierra stopped next to John for a moment, her awe mirrored in his expression.

"I gotta go work now," she said, slightly patronizing. "Try to stay out of trouble until I get back." John looked down at her and smirked at her tone.

"No promises," he joked. Sierra couldn't help but smile at how familiar their banter felt. It somehow felt like nothing had changed. Turning away from him, Sierra nodded to Ford, the second half of her security team, and they proceeded down one of the halls that led from the room.

Sierra's mind was slightly distracted as she took the lead. Thinking back to their childhood, Sierra had always been the more responsible one of the two of them. Sure, she still got into trouble as much as John did, but she had only gone along with it to keep her brother out of even more trouble. There had been some times when they were between the ages of eight and fourteen that John would have gotten himself killed if she hadn't stepped in. Sierra could honestly say she didn't miss _that_ part. Of course, Dave, who had idolized John until he was fifteen, got into as much trouble as his older brother did. Keeping them both out of trouble had been a full time job for Sierra until they moved out of home. Even then it had still been part-time.

A light in the wall ahead of them flickered to life, distracting Sierra from her train of thought. With effort, she turned her attention to her current occupation. As they began searching the rooms that branched off the hall they had been assigned, the young lieutenant beside her tried to strike up a conversation.

"So, ma'am," he started as another light flickered on ahead of them. "You and the major? I had no idea you had a brother."

"You don't know much about me at all, lieutenant," Sierra said as good naturedly as possible. She actually liked Ford. He was enthusiastic, friendly and very open-minded. For a marine.

At that moment, their radios buzzed. "_Security teams_," greeted Sumner's always terse voice. "_Any alien contact?_"

"_Negative, Sir,_" Team 2 answered.

"_Team 4: negative, Colonel._"

"Team 1: negative here also, sir," Sierra reported as she and Ford descended a flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Sierra saw that Team 2 was already moving toward them from the other end so she signaled to them that she and Ford would take the next floor. As they headed down the stairs again, she decided to answer the lieutenant's question.

"Major Sheppard's my twin brother. I also have younger brother, Dave."

"Ah," Ford said. "Cool."

"What about you, Lieutenant," Sierra asked as a third light lit itself as they approached. "You got any brothers or sisters?"

"Nah. But I got a few cousins."

"You lived with your grandparents, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. My folks died when I was a kid. Been living with Grandma and Grandpa ever since. I had my cousins around me all the time. We all kinda looked out for each other when we were growing up."

"That's nice. Not about your parents, but having cousins around and all." Growing up, the Sheppard kids had never stayed in one town more than three years. Sierra had only met about half of her cousins once and the other half, she only knew by name. They passed through the next two floors in silence, the lights still turning themselves on whenever one of them got close. Sierra decided to break the silence.

"So, Ford," she said, swinging her P-90s flashlight around a bend in the hall. "You like your job much?" She could just make out his wide grin in the low light.

"Hell yes, ma'am." Sierra couldn't help but smile back at his enthusiasm.

"How'd you end up at the SGC, then?"

The kid shrugged. "It's kind of a boring story. I was asked by my last CO if I wanted the job and I said yes. Only three of us were given the offer." He seemed quite proud of that fact. "Me, Stackhouse and Hawkins. How about you, ma'am?"

Sierra looked at him, her eyebrow arching. As if he didn't already know.

"I know the part about the 302s in Antarctica," he said, knowing what her look meant. "But how'd you get into that? I mean, that comes under the secrecy act too, right?"

Sierra nodded. She explained to him how General Kerrigan had made her the offer. She told him about her time in the Blue Phoenix squadron on the _Prometheus_ and about her assignment to the Antarctic base. She edited of course, but gave him the basics.

"Cool. Your story's a lot more exciting than mine. If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, why did you want to go to prison instead of the Antarctic base?"

Sierra started at the question. No where in her story had she ever said that she would have rather gone to prison than the research base. "What the hell gave you that impression, Ford?"

The lieutenant shrugged, not deterred by her tone. "I kinda picked up from you that you didn't want to be there when we were at the research base. But the only other option for you would have been Leavenworth. You weren't happy you didn't go in?"

Somehow, Ford had managed to word it in a way that made Sierra think that he was asking an innocent question. Rather than bust him for insubordination, she felt compelled to give him a genuine answer.

"Well," she started, "I _was_ glad that I didn't go to prison, but I had been expecting it. It was kind of a shock to me when I got reassigned instead. I had actually been put up for promotion by –" She cut off as a memory began to resurface, but immediately quashed it. "But they took that off me and sent me to Antarctica." She took in the look on Ford's face. "I just hadn't expected to have a life to go back to after that trial. It's still a bit of a shock to me now."

The lieutenant seemed satisfied with that answer and turned his questions to where the complex they were investigating was. Sierra was about to suggest that they were likely to be underground when they rounded a bend in the hall and came to a floor-to-ceiling window. The words died in her throat.

Bubbles of air the size of her head were drifting up past the stained glass window that looked out over the rest of the complex. It was vast; a huge city that spanned out around a central tower – the one they were searching currently.

But that wasn't what had Sierra suddenly paralyzed. Her heart rate had doubled and her vision was beginning to waver. Just beyond the glass, Sierra saw that they were underwater. Looking up through the top of the window, she saw sunlight filtering down through the waves on the surface. Watery blue light shone through the window giving everything a blue tinge. They had to be several hundred feet down!

Suddenly the walls began to close in around her. She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate. Sierra was never claustrophobic – only when she was underwater. She could hear Ford exclaiming to her that the view was incredible, but she couldn't hear his words properly. It was like someone had stuffed her ears full of cotton. She saw his eager face turn towards her and then crumple in concern. She held her P-90 tightly in front of her, her finger as far from the trigger as possible, the barrel aimed away from the window.

Sierra heard Ford speak into his radio, but didn't grasp the words. Her attention was focused on the bubbles that were constantly drifting upwards past the window. They were little pockets of air, rising to the surface, drifting away from her, upwards, never to come back.

She tried to focus on her breathing; she was no use to anyone if she collapsed of asphyxia. Still unable to tear her eyes from the window, she worked on calming herself.

It seemed like only a few seconds later that she heard a clattering of feet coming towards her. A familiar face blocked her view of the window and began to move her away from it. Someone pulled the gun from her hands as Carson faced her away from the window and got her to sit on a bench in the hallway. Ford appeared over his shoulder, concern on his young face.

"You OK, ma'am," he asked. Carson passed her a canteen of water and two white pills.

"Ah, maybe." Her voice was small and soft, with a definite edge of panic to it. She looked down at the tablets in her hand and then back up at Carson. "What're these?"

"Valium. They should calm ye down a wee bit."

"Looked like she was having a panic attack, doc," Ford said.

"Aye," Carson said as Sierra downed the pills, anxious for a little relief. "We've had two more already."

"Just a thing from when I was growing up, is all," Sierra said as reassuringly as possible. Already, she could feel her heart rate decreasing, her blood pressure lowering and her breathing evening out. "I'll be fine in minute." It took her less than that for her to feel slightly normal again. She didn't dare look toward the window as she stood and reclaimed her weapon from Ford.

"_All security teams fall back to the 'gate room_," came Sumner's voice over the radio. Sierra and Ford exchanged a look.

"Oh, no," Carson said as he re-gathered his medical kit and hurried ahead of them.

"Carson?" Sierra called after him, willing her putty legs to keep up with the Scotsman. Ford was a half a step behind her in case she needed the help. "Carson, what's going on?"

"The city's losing power," he called back over his shoulder. "The shield holding back the water is going to collapse if the power level keeps falling."

Sierra clenched her hands tightly around her P-90 again at Carson's words. Those pills must still have been working, though, because she didn't start hyperventilating again.

"How long do we have?" she asked instead.

"McKay thinks only a couple of days."

Well, that wasn't so bad. If it had of been a couple of hours then Sierra was sure the panic would return despite the drugs. It wasn't long before they reached the Gate Room and John hurried down the stairs towards her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Hey, you OK?"

She nodded, fighting down a gulp of stale air. "Yeah, I will be. As long as Carson doesn't run out of Valium and I don't look out any of the windows."

John gave a small laugh, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry. When Sumner said that we were underwater, I should have realized –"

"It's OK. I'll be fine. So what's happening with the city? Is it really Atlantis?"

"McKay seems to think so." A MALP was driven past them by Peter Grodan. "Oh, yeah, and we're goin' offworld to find somewhere to evac to in case the shield does fail and we have to leave."

"Could that really happen?" Sierra asked, unable to help the hint of panic that crept into her voice.

"According to McKay." John gave a disbelieving laugh. Sierra was forced to think back to a time in the war when they had trusted an 'expert' only to lose the lives of thirteen men and lose control in two major areas. She smiled at him reassuringly through her panic.

"He may be a huge pain in the ass, but McKay knows what he's talking about," she said as she moved to join Ford and John as they assembled for offworld travel. She was suddenly anxious to get off the base.

"You're staying here." Sumner's voice came from behind her as the Stargate came to life. Sierra couldn't help but jump at his sudden appearance. His eyes were cold, as usual, as he moved around to stand in front of them.

"But, sir –" John started. Sumner's piercing glare moved to him, silencing him instantly.

"I won't have you on my team, captain," the colonel said. "You are to remain here. You're in charge until we get back." Sierra saw the way his eyes narrowed at the last part of his order. He didn't like the idea of that at all. Back at the SGC Sumner had made it clear to her that she was going to be at the bottom of the food chain as long as he was in command. Putting her in a position where the men had to listen to her wasn't exactly his idea of punishment.

Sierra nodded meekly. "Yessir."

"Let's move out," he called to the team. He moved past her and stepped through the 'gate, the marines following closely behind him. John glared after him and Ford shot her a sympathetic look as he crossed the event horizon.

"It'll be fine, Sierra," John said as he pulled his night-vision goggles on, sitting them on his forehead. "Just don't look out the windows." He gave her a wide smile before he waved to the control room and stepped through.

Sierra couldn't help but sigh.

-----XXX-----

She was finding it hard to concentrate. John and the other teams had been gone for nearly three hours now. Despite the fact that they had checked in barely twenty minutes after they left, saying that they had made contact with the locals, she was anxious that they hadn't checked in again. If this had've been the Milky Way she might not have been so edgy. But this was an entirely new galaxy and who knew what kinds of Bogeymen were lurking in the shadows.

To take her mind off things, she had ordered the remaining marines to help the civilians get settled. She had also posted sentries on the next two floors to make sure that nothing got in and no one got out. The last thing they needed right now was an alien attack or for someone to get lost and have send out a search party.

Carson handed her a small bottle of Valium in passing on her way back up to the Control Room after settling a dispute about whose crate-slash-lab-table was whose. "Keep tha' with ye, love," he said. "I've got plenty more." The bottle was only half full but it would last her until they got out of the city.

"Thanks, doc," she said, hoping that it wouldn't come to that.

She arrived back in the Control Room in time to see the 'gate shut down. Sierra made her way over to Dr. Weir, who was staring out over the balcony that overlooked the 'gate.

"What's happening?" Sierra asked.

The other woman frowned a little. "Colonel Sumner and his team are going to investigate the ruins of a city near the village. They'll be checking back in a few hours." She hadn't turned away from the 'gate and her eyebrows were pulling a little in the middle.

"What is it?" Sierra gently prodded.

"It's something Lieutenant Ford said. Something about a race called the Wraith."

"Who, or what, are they?"

"They're not sure. Whoever they are, they seem to have the locals frightened. Major Sheppard seems to think its possible they were the enemy that defeated the Ancients."

_Wow_, Sierra thought. That was something to worry about. The Ancients were by far the most powerful race in the history of the Milky Way galaxy, save for the Goa'uld. They had been even more powerful than the Asgard. A race that could have taken them down was a formidable enemy indeed. Sierra hoped that they wouldn't come across them any time soon.

For a moment, she let her mind wander. It was a bit hard for her to believe that they had only left the SGC a little less than five hours ago. It felt like longer. She hadn't even had time to take the pack off her back. She had left everything she cared about behind her only hours ago and was now trapped in an air-bubble with the force of a trillion gallons of water baring down on its thin shell. At least the Valium was working a treat.

Sierra thought again about the direction her life could have gone in had she not decided to come on this expedition. Her life would have been meaningless; pointless even. She was a part of the most fantastic secret in the history of the world and her life would be nothing without it. If they managed to get out of their current predicament in one piece, Sierra wondered what it would be like out there. Would they set up a base just like the SGC? Would they send teams to other worlds to gather technology and meet new races? Would Sumner let Sierra be a part of that? The sudden thought of Sumner holding her back from what she wanted to do because of his prejudices made her angry.

"Sumner doesn't like me, does he?" she voiced aloud. Elizabeth, who hadn't moved since the 'gate shut down, turned to look at her.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

Sierra raised an eyebrow, surprised that the diplomat hadn't picked up on it yet. "He told me he didn't want me on the offworld team."

"Yes, I know," she said tightly. "I'll have to talk to him about that."

"Don't worry about it," Sierra said, slightly disgruntled. "He'd probably just make my life a nightmare behind your back anyways."

Elizabeth didn't seem very happy about this. "He isn't a bad person, Captain. I wouldn't have let General O'Neill assign him to the expedition if I didn't believe that."

"I know that. But he's a military man, through and through – it's his religion. And my past is… questionable."

"Surely he can see that –"

Sierra was already shaking her head. "No offence, Elizabeth, but you can't possibly understand the magnitude of my decision to abandon my post. Admittedly, he doesn't like John that much either; because he disobeyed an order. But his 'sin' pales in comparison next to what I did."

Elizabeth seemed to understand this. "It doesn't forgive his treatment of you, though."

Sierra gave a rueful smile and repeated John's words in the SGC Gate Room. "I'm sure he'll warm up to me once he gets to know me."

Sierra could see from Elizabeth's expression that she wanted to say something reassuring but Sierra didn't really want to hear it. She looked around her for something to else to talk about.

"I'm gonna go check on the security teams," she said. Elizabeth nodded as Sierra headed back down the stairs. She moved through the restless crowd of scientists, technicians, engineers and nurses that were trying to get comfortable on the next floor down. As she neared the stairs to the next level she heard a commotion from the security detail below her.

As the marines came into view, she saw that they were arguing with one of the scientists. The man was not much taller than her with long brown hair, pulled back into a pony-tail at the base of his neck. He had square glasses and an irritating, high-pitched voice. Sierra remembered that she had seen him talking to Grodan in the Gate Room back on Earth but hadn't interrupted when she saw the agitated look on Grodan's face.

"What's the problem here?" she asked. The marines looked at her graciously, but the scientist glared at her in disgust.

"These… men won't let me pass," he said in his irritating voice. The larger of the two marines bristled slightly at the doctor's implication.

"Easy, West," Sierra said. The marine settled but glared at the annoying man, who glared back. "They have orders not to let anyone to the lower levels," Sierra explained to the scientist. _And marines are good at taking orders_, she added to herself.

"But there was a lab I wanted to investigate on the next level –"

"And I said," Sierra started, her voice rising in volume, cutting him off, "that no one is allowed to go past these men. You have a problem with that, Doctor…"

"Kavanagh," the scientist filled in for her.

"Doctor Kavanagh. You have a problem with that, you take it up with your Chief of Staff." Kavanagh set his mouth in a hard line and glared off to the side. Something clicked into place in Sierra's mind.

"McKay is your Chief of Staff, isn't he?" she said, her smile was smug as Kavanagh set his shoulders in a sulk. McKay was the one who had discovered that the shields were failing because of their exploration and she doubted very much that he wanted anything to accelerate that. Sierra couldn't help but feel like she had won this round. "Well, until he clears you to go exploring, I'm afraid that you won't be going anywhere."

No one could pout like John could, but Kavanagh was definitely giving him a run for his money. Sierra struggled not to laugh her head off at him. Instead she gave him a wide, cocky smile and headed off to check on the other marines. She felt Kavanagh's eyes bore into her back but she ignored him easily.

After she did her rounds she headed back to the Gate Room. Someone had dug out a crate of MREs and the civilians were helping themselves before drifting back downstairs. Sierra leant around a technician and pulled a chocolate-flavored power bar out from the box and grabbed a fresh canteen. She glanced up at the Stargate as she tore the wrapper with her teeth. What on Earth could be taking them so long? Admittedly it had only been an hour since they had checked in last, but it still had her anxious.

At that moment she felt a rumble in the floor beneath her feet. She froze instantly, her heart pounding with fear, waiting for the water to come crashing through the windows. Silence filled the Gate Room as everyone else seemed to wait for the same fate. Long minutes passed and then one of the nurses spoke up.

"Are we dead yet?" he asked quietly. The engineer standing next to him gave a slightly hysterical giggle. The atmosphere relaxed quickly and Sierra gave a shaky laugh at herself. The blood still pounded in her ears but at least her breathing was returning to normal. Taking a seat on the huge staircase she downed a Valium and ate half the power bar in one go. She sighed as she surveyed the group of people milling about the Gate Room.

So far only two others had had panic attacks at the discovery of them being underwater (she had passed one of them in the hall before, with his head between his knees). That was pretty good considering that so many of the civilians were either obsessive compulsive or hypochondriacs. She guessed that came with knowing everything.

Sierra sat on the stairs for a half an hour, just watching the people below her, keeping an eye out for trouble. Then Grodan and Elizabeth hurried up the stairs past her. A thrill of panic coursed through her when she saw the look on Elizabeth's face.

"How're we doing?" she asked McKay in a controlled voice. Sierra stood up and moved to the top of the stairs. "Look, if we can just buy ourselves another day, maybe we could –"

McKay cut her off. "The city is sacrificing parts of itself in order to maintain these main areas but catastrophic failure is inevitable."

Elizabeth didn't seem happy with this news at all. "Not in my wildest dreams would I hope to find the lost city of the Ancients so completely untouched, so pristine, and we have no choice but to walk away from this?"

McKay's voice was terse as he said, "In order to save it." Sierra could see Elizabeth's frustration and could understand it. Elizabeth had put so much time and effort into this expedition, and for them to come _here_, the Lost City of Atlantis, the place that philosophers had been searching for for centuries, and then to have to leave? Sierra didn't think that she had that much self control.

She didn't hear Elizabeth's next words. Sierra turned to the window that was above the stairs. More bubbles rose towards the surface, but Sierra forced herself to see past that, to see the city beyond.

Ford had been right before: it was amazing. But 'amazing' couldn't be the right word. 'Magnificent' was a closer simile. Even in the dim light that filtered down to the city, Sierra could make out spires and whole city blocks rising up from the piers that surrounded the central tower. The tallest that she could see was about twenty stories high and only reached halfway up to the central tower. The city was immense. And beautiful. Sierra imagined what the city must have been like when the Ancients still lived in it, when it sat on the surface. And now, to have to leave it to be claimed by the ocean?

Sierra's radio clucked. "_Attention all personnel_," came Elizabeth's voice from both in Sierra's ear and several feet behind her in the Control Room. "_This is Weir –_"

Suddenly the whole tower shook violently, causing several piles of boxes and a few people to topple to the ground. The shaking didn't stop this time and Sierra knew that this was it. She turned away from the window and headed down to help in the Gate Room.

"_Prepare for immediate evacuation_," Elizabeth all but shouted over the rumble. "Dial the 'gate," Sierra heard her say to McKay. Seconds later the chevrons on the 'gate began to light up and McKay called, "We've got an incoming wormhole!"

"Everyone move!" Sierra ordered as she seized a botanist by the collar and pulled her out of the way of the vortex. McKay raised the shield and then lowered it again to reveal John and the rest of the marines. Following them, however, was a whole village – or it seemed that way.

Men, women and children, battered, disheveled and covered in dirt and soot, strolled from the wormhole and looked around bewilderedly at the large Gate Room. Sierra threw an accusatory look at John before stepping forward to help the villagers find a place to sit or stand. All the while, the city continued to shake itself to pieces.

"Keep movin', folks," John said casually as more people began to materialize through the wormhole. "Move away from the puddle."

"Major Sheppard," Elizabeth called as she headed towards them down the stairs. "Major Sheppard, who are all these people?"

"Survivors from the settlement," John explained as Sierra came to stand next to them. "We were attacked. Sumner and some of our men were taken." A confused look passed over his face as he took in Sierra's pale face and the shaking floor. "What's goin' on?"

Elizabeth didn't answer his question, she just looked pissed. "We are in no condition to help anyone right now," the diplomat hissed, pulling him away from the villagers.

John frowned, his gaze passing around them at the shaking walls and toppling crates. "What the hell's going on here?"

"We are about to abandon the city." Despite the anger at John in her voice, Sierra managed to pick out the despair.

John motioned behind him to the 'gate. "Going back there's a really bad idea."

"Major Sheppard," she said, clearly trying to remain calm. "The shield is about to fail and the ocean is about to come crashing in on us." Sierra couldn't help the way her heart rate began to race. She briefly wiped her palms on her BDUs. "Do you have a better place for us to go?" Elizabeth demanded, oblivious to Sierra's change in emotional state.

John turned around to the villagers that had gathered around the 'gate. "Jinto," he said addressing a boy that was about twelve years old. "Do you have any other addresses we could 'gate to?"

"Yes, many," the boy said in a rather confident voice. He didn't seem too shy or scared at all. John promptly took hold of his arm and steered him towards the control room. Sierra and Elizabeth looked after them, surprised.

"He's just a boy," Elizabeth stuttered out, pointing at him with the aerial of her radio.

"I am Jinto," the boy said eagerly.

"She's pleased to meet you," John said as they started up the stairs. Sierra hesitated at the bottom to pop another Valium but it was knocked out of her hand when the floor shook her from her feet. Sierra hadn't known that it was possible for her heart to start pounding any faster, but somehow it happened. Panic started to rise in her as every part of the base shook fiercely. Acting on pure instinct, she crawled up the stairs on her hands and knees toward her brother. John, who was leaning protectively over Jinto, reached out his hand to her. It clamped around her arm tightly as Sierra put her head into his shoulder. Jinto huddled into John as Sierra felt a lifting sensation, like taking off in an airplane.

"We're moving!" John cried over his shoulder.

"No shit!" Sierra shouted back, oblivious to the child huddled next to her. Sierra kept expecting the window above their heads to shatter into a cascade of icy seawater, but instead the white surf gave way to glorious sunlight. She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as the entire tower burst free of the ocean.

Sierra's heart wasn't pounding with fear anymore, but relief. The shaking went on and on until finally, the city came to a stand-still. Sierra stood up on shaky legs, leaning on John for support.

John pulled Jinto to his feet before turning to Sierra. "You OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," she breathed back. "We're not dead, that's gotta be something."

John laughed lightly, turning to look out the window in front of them. Sierra, who still clung to him loosely, followed. Water streamed down the window in huge droplets, making the view outside shimmer and ripple. Beyond, the midday sun reflected off the glistening, wet towers and windows, making the city shine and sparkle like it was made of diamonds.

Sierra felt others crowd around them, moving to also look out the window at the city. Elizabeth came to stand on Sierra's other side, while Jinto slipped under John's arm and practically pressed his face to the glass. McKay came to stand beside them, and Ford put a hand on both Sierra and John's shoulders leaning up to look over their heads.

"We're on the surface," the young marine said excitedly, relief tinting his voice.

Beside Sierra, Elizabeth sighed. "Well, I was hoping for one more day," she said. "Looks like we just got a whole lot more than that. Let's not waste it."

Sierra couldn't agree more. Her fear at being underwater already seemed like a thing of the past. Now, they finally the chance to do what they had come here to do – explore.

Eventually, when everyone had gotten enough of the view, they started to move off. Elizabeth and McKay headed back to the Control Room to check the status of the power source. Ford headed down the stairs to get the villagers from the planet settled on the next two levels. Sierra radioed down to the marines to extend the perimeter to the next level to try and make some more space for their guests. John tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"Can you take care of things while I get a rescue started?" he asked without the faintest touch of doubt.

"Of course," Sierra replied. "What happened there?"

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We were attacked. Three ships came and, sorta, scooped up a couple of our men and some of the villagers. Sumner, Bates, Thomason, Zimero; and a few Athosians, including Teyla, their leader, and Jinto's dad, Halling." John cast an apologetic look at the boy who was still gazing avidly out the window. At the sound of his name Jinto turned to look at them.

The boy then came to stand next to John, pulling on his sleeve. "You will find my father, won't you, Major Sheppard?"

"Yeah, kid," John said gently. "'Course I will. I'll get your father back, I promise." Sierra took in the look on John's face. She knew that look. It was the same look he had when Dex was pinned down by enemy fire and John had decided to save him. It was the same look he had when their dad had taken his car keys and John was still determined to sneak out with his friends. It was no doubt the same look he had when he decided to go back, against orders, and try and save those men trapped behind enemy lines. That look was one Sierra knew well.

John looked up at her and Sierra couldn't help the look of skepticism that passed over her face. Could he do it? Sierra wondered this question allowed.

Her brother shrugged. "I'm gonna try," he said softly. He then turned back to the boy. "Jinto, this is my sister, Sierra. I want you to stick close to her, OK?" Sierra blinked in surprise. So now she'd been assigned as baby-sitter? She was about to argue when Jinto turned his grief-stricken, panicked eyes on her. Sierra shut her mouth.

Jinto nodded. "Good boy," John said, putting a hand on his shoulder before heading up to the Control Room. Sierra looked at the boy for a moment.

"C'mon," she said holding an arm out to him. "Let's get you something to eat." The boy stepped closer to her and she put her arm across his shoulders, guiding him down the stairs. They passed Ford who was directing the flow of traffic between the Gate Room and the next floor. Sierra stopped at a crate of Mess Hall supplies and popped the lid. Inside she spied layers and layers of MREs. "Oh, score," she said, digging a pasta-and-vegetables one out. She tossed it to Jinto, who fumble with it slightly. "Hold onto that for a second."

"Um, alright." Sierra fixed the lid back on the crate and lifted it to take it to the next level. The boy trailed behind her, examining the plain packaging. "This does not look edible," he said.

"It's what's inside it that's edible," Sierra answered as she started down the stairs.

"I see." There was a slight pause. "You and Major are siblings?" he asked.

Sierra couldn't help but laugh. "'Major' isn't his name," she said lightly. "It's his rank. His name is John. And yes, we are brother and sister." As she set the box down, Sierra saw the boy nod.

"I do see the resemblance between you." Sierra glanced sideways at the kid.

"How old are you, Jinto?"

"I am thirteen winters old," he answered with a smile on his face. "I will be allowed to join the hunting parties soon."

"Good for you. So, do you have any siblings?"

"No," he replied, his voice a little sad and his eyes downcast. Sierra sat down on the floor next to Mess crate and held her hand out for the MRE. Jinto placed it into her hand and said, "It is just me and my father. My mother was taken by the Wraith after I was born. I don't remember her very well."

"I'm sorry," she said, tearing off the top of the foil bag. "I know what it's like losing a parent." She tipped the contents of the bag onto the floor in front of them. She motioned for Jinto to sit. The boy watched avidly as she started assembling the meal. Sierra poured a small amount of water into the flameless ration heater, slid it gently into the boxed meal and leant it against the flashlight of her P-90. She then tore open the packaged bread, using the back of the spoon to smear peanut putter over it. She handed this to Jinto.

He sniffed it experimentally and Sierra smiled, chuckling lightly. "It's safe; you can eat it."

The boy's eyebrows puckered in the middle. "I have never known food that looks like this to be very enjoyable."

Sierra struggled to suppress her smirk. "Trust me on this." To prove it, Sierra licked the back of the plastic spoon. She didn't normally like peanut butter, but the brand they used in the MREs didn't taste like normal peanut butter and she liked it. Jinto seemed to wait a few seconds to see if she would die of poisoning and, when she didn't drop dead, he took a small bite.

Sierra watched the kid with curiosity as his face went from caution to enjoyment. Jinto's eyes widened in delighted surprise and then took a larger bite, devouring half the bread slice in one bite. Sierra laughed gently.

Once the main course had been properly heated, Sierra gently removed it from the box and peeled back the foil covering. She put the spoon in Jinto's hand and presented him with the meal. He took the same approach, sniffing it first before eating enthusiastically once he got the taste in his mouth. Sierra watched him eat, picking at a power bar she dug out of crate behind her.

Looking around her, Sierra saw the Athosians, as John had called them, and the expedition members milling about. Someone had done what she had and handed out MREs. A few of the civilians were showing each group of Pegasus locals how to use their meal.

"Major Sheppard said that you come from a planet that is 'far, far away'," Jinto said as he finished off the last of his pasta and vegetables. "How far is 'far, far away'?"

Sierra thought for a moment of how to explain. "Hmm… well, Jinto… did your father teach you about the stars?"

The boy nodded. "He says that they are the eyes of the Ancestor's. And that they watch over the planets, giving life and warmth."

Sierra liked that analogy. She nodded. "OK. And you've traveled to quite a few planets before?" Again the boy nodded. "How many of those stars you see at night have a planet that you've been to before?"

"Several."

"OK. All those stars you see in the night sky, they're close… relatively speaking. They are all places that you can go to using the Stargate–"

"What is a 'Stargate'?" Jinto interrupted.

"The big round thing you used to get here? You probably call it something different…"

"Yes. We call it the Ring of the Ancestors."

"Right. So, all those planets are relatively close and you can use the Star– Ring of the Ancestors to go to these places. Well, the planet that we come from is so far away that you can't use a normal Ring to get there."

"So, how did you come here?"

"Well, our… Ring back on our planet is different and we were able to travel a very long way. But it takes a lot of energy. And we don't have the power to go back, so…"

"You have to stay here?" Sierra nodded. The boy was quiet for a moment.

"What is your planet like?" he asked enthusiastically. Sierra was reminded of Ford for a moment.

"Well, it's a busy place. Very different from what you probably know. The whole planet is like a packed market place. You can see lots of people everywhere you go. And all sorts of people, too."

"Wow," Jinto said leaning towards her as he exclaimed in excitement. "Can we go there one day?"

"Maybe," Sierra said. "One day." Sierra didn't really want to think about all the trouble that Jinto could get into on Earth. Sierra instead asked him about his planet and all the places that he had been to. He described to her his home, Athos, and several places that he had gone to with his father. He talked fast, with animated hands and facial expressions, and Sierra sensed he was the kind of kid who wanted very much to please those he looked up to. She could also tell that he already idolized John.

It wasn't long before John called her on her radio. "_Sierra_," he said, a sense of wonder creeping into his voice, even through the radio. "_You've gotta see this_."

Sierra cleaned up the remains of the meal, pocketing the desert, which appeared to be some kind of glazed pastry. She doubted that the kid's system could handle that much sugar. Taking Jinto to the nearest group of Athosians, Sierra promised that she would be back.

John told her to head up past the Control Room and into a room that held several cylinder-like ships. In the centre of the room one of the ships was hovering several feet off the floor. A humming noise filled Sierra's senses, almost echoing into her core. As she took a step closer, the ship turned, lowered itself to the floor and the rear-hatch opened. John peeked around a dividing bulkhead and smirked at her.

A slow smile spread across her own face as she took a few steps inside the craft. "Wow," she sighed, glancing about her. The humming sensation increased slightly. "What is that?" she asked.

"That vibrating in your bones?" John asked, knowing what she was talking about. "Dunno, but I think it's the ship. Started as soon as the thing turned on."

Sierra came to stand next to him. He pressed a button and the hatch closed. John then adjusted the controls in front of him and the ship lifted off the ground again. Sierra expected to feel the sensation of lift-off but she didn't.

"Inertial dampeners," she said. "Cool." She looked at John as he pulled on the controls to adjust their altitude. "Are you flyin' this thing?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, sounding like he was a kid in a candy store.

"Can I try?" she asked excitedly. John glanced at her like she was asking if she could play with his favourite toy. "I got the same gene as you, you know. I can probably fly it just a well as you can."

John looked back to the controls. "Maybe. But for the moment, I'm the only one who needs to know how to fly this thing, so…"

"Whoa, hold on a second – what?" Sierra grabbed his shoulder and turned him towards her. "What d'you mean you're the only one who needs to know how to fly? What about me? Aren't I going with you?"

John stood and pursed his lips in a perfect imitation of their father. "No," he said forcefully. "You're staying here."

Anger flared in Sierra, the same anger that had she felt towards him that night he told her he was leaving again. "I'm sick to death of always being left behind, John. I am going with you!"

"No, you're not!" he all but yelled at her. "As the second-highest ranking officer currently on this base, you have to be in charge in case we don't make it back."

Sierra bit back the angry words she was about to hurl at him. She couldn't deny standard procedure. It made too much sense. But there was no way she was going to leave it at that.

"What if you need my help?" she demanded. "What if you get injured or –" she couldn't help but shudder "– or killed and there's no one to fly the others home? What then?"

John managed to pull a poker-face on. "That won't happen," he said, sitting back in the chair and facing the controls.

"How do you know that?" Sierra said, folding her arms.

"Look," John said, turning to face at her again. "If we're not back in… three hours, then you gather the rest of the marines and come after us – it's that simple." He turned away from her.

Sierra huffed out a breath. She knew that there was no more arguing with him; his mind had been set.

"Fine!" she said, surrendering with poor grace. "But you had better swear to me that if it all goes to shit, you will get yourself outta there. In one piece. Clear?" Sierra knew she had no right to give him orders, but this wasn't an order as an officer, it was a demand as his sister.

John looked at her as impassive as possible and said, "I swear, Sierra. I'm comin' back. This isn't a suicide mission."

_Could've fooled me_, she thought to herself. Instead, she nodded and sat in the chair on the other side of the cockpit. _There's gotta be a way to give them more of an advantage, though_, she wondered. At that moment, one of the crystals on the control panel in front of John began to flash. They both stared at it.

"What the hell?" Sierra muttered.

"What did you do?"

"Me? Nothing!"

John reached a hand forward and twisted the crystal like a dial on a stove. Nothing happened inside the ship, except the humming sensation Sierra was feeling changed; now her skin felt like it was tingling. They shared a glance and then looked out of the front window. Something had changed, that much was clear. Perhaps the fact that her skin was tingling was an indicator.

"Open the hatch," Sierra ordered. John set the ship down and then opened the hatch for her. Sierra exited the ship, took a few steps away from it and then turned around – and her jaw practically hit the floor. "Holy crap!" she shouted. From her perspective, there was no ship. It was completely invisible.

"What?" John demanded. "What is it?" Sierra didn't answer at first. She took a few steps towards where she imagined the hatch was and passed through the invisible barrier. The ship reappeared, letting her see the open hatch and John's confused face as he stood there. Sierra took a step backwards again and everything disappeared. She stepped forward again and it was all back. She gave an amazed laugh.

"The ship's invisible," she explained at John's bewildered face. She moved to stand in the hatch as John did exactly what she had done. John never left her vision but she could see his astounded expression as he saw her and the ship appear and disappear. She couldn't help but laugh at his surprise. Once he'd gotten his head around that fact, he came to stand next to her.

"I'll never get used to this," he muttered.

"Sure, you will," Sierra encouraged. "It's a cloak. Goa'uld cargo ships have got the same thing."

John soon got over his shock and went back to practicing his flying, this time with the cloak on. Sierra had to admit that the tingling sensation on her skin felt kind of good.

About ten minutes later, Rodney and Elizabeth came around the corner and entered the room. Elizabeth looked straight at the ship but Sierra knew that she couldn't see anything. Rodney was gesturing and pointing, looking annoyed. John chuckled lightly to himself before turning the cloak off. Sierra saw their faces light up with surprise when they saw the ship appear out of nowhere. Sierra could sympathize; it definitely wasn't something you saw every day.

John tapped his radio. "You said you wanted a tactical advantage?" he asked, no doubt referring to something that Sierra had missed earlier. She threw a quizzical look at John but he ignored her, focusing on Elizabeth. Sierra then assumed that this had something to do with his rescue attempt.

Sierra glanced at Elizabeth. The other woman was staring at the ship in amazement, her eyes shining. Sierra saw something pass across her face, but couldn't put a name to it.

"_Alright_," she replied through the radio. "_So you can fly that thing. It doesn't mean you can pull off a rescue_."

John pursed his lips, flicking a slightly exasperated look at Sierra. _She doesn't get it_, his look seemed to say. Sierra had seen _that_ one, many, many times. He touched his hand to his radio again. "Doctor, this is why you brought me here," John said, his words slow, like he was speaking to someone slightly dense – or their father.

Sierra tensed slightly in her seat, their previous conversation playing in her head. She hated being left behind; especially by John. Every time he did something heroic, or lifesaving, or suicidal, he always, _always_, ordered her to stay out of it. She knew that it was only to protect her, to keep her from getting hurt, but she couldn't stand staying behind when it was possible that he might not make it back. That had happened twice in the Gulf and Sierra knew that she never would have forgiven herself if he hadn't made it out of those situations alive.

John was landing the small ship to let McKay aboard to run some tests. Sierra excused herself and slipped out the back. Elizabeth stopped her as she came around the side of the ship.

"Are you OK," the other woman asked.

Sierra nodded. "We've talked it over," Sierra said, trying to keep her voice level, "and we decided that I'll stay behind to lead the back-up team should they need it."

"I hope it won't come to that. We can't afford to lose many more people."

Sierra nodded stiffly. "I agree, ma'am," Sierra said, using Elizabeth's title for the first time in a while. "Another reason for me to remain behind. Marines've gotta have someone to follow… in case they don't make it back." Sierra felt a lump form in her throat as she completed her sentence. She swallowed it as best she could.

"OK," Elizabeth said, nodding. "Alert your teams – tell them to be ready." Sierra wasn't sure she could reply to that so she just bobbed her head and headed for the exit.

-----XXX-----

Sierra stood overlooking the Gate Room with her arms folded across her chest. John had clapped her on the shoulder as he passed her on his way up to the ship bay, but hadn't said a word to her in leaving. It was his custom. Never say goodbye.

She had watched as the newly named 'Puddle Jumper' descended down to the Gate Room and vanished through the event horizon, all with a slightly sullen look on her face. She was nervous for them.

_Don't sweat it_, John would say. _I've done this a hundred times; when have I ever not come back?_

Well, obviously he had never _not_ come back, but that was beside the point. What if something went wrong? What if the ship broke down and they were stranded? What if they ended up being severely outnumbered or John decided to do a kamikaze run and blow the enemy to Kingdom Come, himself included? Sierra wouldn't put it past him.

Her brooding for the last half hour had caused her mood to darken and had aggravated her temper. Most of the technicians that had been excitedly experimenting with the Ancient controls were now talking in hushed voices after Sierra had bellowed at them for quiet. McKay was huffing to himself as he sat at the closest control station to her. Sierra had known for a while that he was huffing at her.

After one particularly vociferous 'humph' Sierra whirled to face him, her hands gripping the control station, her face inches from his. "What?" she hissed at him.

She could see him trying to maintain his commanding façade, and failing. His eyes darted about and his ears began to flush red. "N-nothing," he muttered his voice two octaves higher than normal.

Sierra narrowed her eyes at him, before pushing off the station and turning back to the balcony.

"I was just –" McKay started before cutting himself off. Sierra heard him stand up and move to just in front of his work area. "I was wondering –" Sierra left out a frustrated grumble. "Why didn't you tell me that you had the gene?" he demanded in one rushed breath.

Sierra turned to look at the astrophysicist. "I didn't have to tell you _squat_, McKay," she said, her temper building. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other technicians watching them.

"Well, it's just…" McKay pushed one hand into his pocket and fumbled the fingers of his other, a clear indication of his discomfort. "It would have helped me out a lot," he finished, sounding slightly pathetic.

Sierra narrowed her eyes at him. "I was not there as a tool for you to wield, Doctor. I was there for a reason. And that didn't include participating in _your_ research. The whole world doesn't exist to serve you!" And with that, Sierra stalked off before she would lose control of her temper completely.

Despite being John's twin, Sierra had unfortunately inherited her father's volatile temper. She felt it now, bubbling under her skin. She headed up to the ship bay and sat at the controls of one of the jumper/ships. She hoped that no one was stupid enough to follow her.

Almost as though the jumper sensed her intent, the dash lit up and the control for the cloak began blinking, just like it had when John had been learning how to fly. Sierra immediately turned the dial, feeling the suddenly familiar tingling sensation crawl over her skin. Somehow, it soothed her anger.

It was an hour before Grodan called her on the radio, telling her that there was an incoming wormhole. Sierra immediately left the Jumper Bay and headed back to the Control Room.

"What's going on?" she demanded as the shield was lowered on the 'gate.

"I'm receiving Lieutenant Ford's I.D.C.," McKay said from his station near the D.H.D. He refused to look up as Sierra passed him to stand at the balcony.

"Let 'em in," Elizabeth ordered before coming to stand next to her. Sierra watched with baited breath for the Jumper to return her brother. A few seconds later, though, everyone dived for cover as several energy bolts shot out of the active 'gate and exploded against the walls.

"Give them a few more seconds!" Elizabeth shouted from where she was pressed against a pillar. Sierra herself was hidden behind the pillar on the other side of the balcony. She poked her head around the column in time to see the Jumper rematerialize suddenly and then slow to an incredibly abrupt halt.

Sierra gasped, instinctively moving away from the ship, falling onto her hands before realizing the ship had stopped. She picked herself up off the floor and moved back to the balcony. The shield was active and Sierra distinctly heard the impact of three large, fast objects that had followed them through the wormhole.

Sierra breathed, suddenly aware that she had stopped breathing. She pulled in a few ragged breaths, leaning over the balcony as John – mercifully her brother had managed to survive – piloted the ship up into the Jumper bay. As the ship ascended, the cockpit window turned towards them and she saw John give her an exhausted smile. Sierra couldn't help but shake her head at him and give a small laugh.

Well, at least he had made it through Day One without getting himself killed. Who knew how many more they'd have left to survive through.

-----XXX-----

Sierra was chatting with Ford next to the buffet table when a breeze blew off the ocean. The salt air was refreshing after the stale, filtered air of the city. True, now that Atlantis was now on the surface, they were giving the life support system a bit of a break and opening all the windows they could, but it was still refreshing to be outside in the open air.

Sierra glanced up at the foreign sky above them and saw millions and millions of bright stars. It wasn't often that she had seen skies this clear back home. She dropped her eyes to the horizon and spotted John standing alone near at the balcony, lost in his thoughts. Sierra had been there the second he stepped out of the Jumper and had taken in the haggard look in his eyes. She had also heard his story of what had happened to Colonel Sumner, and how John had fired the shot that killed him and Sierra knew that leaving him alone with his thoughts wasn't a really good idea right now.

John, whether it was intentional or not, bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Every man and woman that was in a hundred mile radius was part of his responsibility. It was a protective streak that had gotten him into too many fights and battles over the years. But it was a part of who he was, and Sierra knew that would never change.

Motioning to Ford, she and the lieutenant joined him. Sierra offered John some of the food she had pick up off the buffet table. He took a slice of cheese and nibbled at it.

"I guess this is home now," Ford said, his easy-going manner perfect for starting a conversation.

"I guess so," John replied, his demeanor not at all one for a party. Sierra wanted to shake him until he laughed.

"I'm thinking of a little place with an ocean view," Ford continued pointing to a distant pier. "Out of the way." Sierra watched as John let a small smile escape him. Sierra threw a thankful smile of her own at the young man.

"Major, Captain, Lieutenant," Elizabeth said, handing them all a stainless mug of wine. "I thought the occasion merited opening this. Compliments of General O'Neill."

"Cheers," John muttered before lifting the mug to his lips. Sierra, not much of a wine person, took a small sip before setting it on the balustrade beside her.

Elizabeth looked at John, and seemed to notice his glum mood. "You did good, John," she said. Sierra noticed the way the diplomat encompassed the rescue attempt (where, admittedly, things hadn't gone exactly according to plan) and the evacuation of the Athosians all into one day of accomplishments. She was glad that Elizabeth didn't blame him for what happened in the Wraith complex, because Sierra could tell that John certainly did.

John shrugged, shaking his head slowly. "I dunno about that."

"I couldn't have done it better," Sierra offered lightly. John glanced at her with a slight grimace.

"Hey," Elizabeth said, reproachful. "There was no way you could have saved Colonel Sumner."

John dropped his eyes from her slightly, his shoulders rigid. "And I have to live with it." Elizabeth nodded lightly, a flash of sympathy crossing her face. Sierra put a reassuring hand on his arm before dropping back to her side. John sighed.

"I'm beginning to think you were right," he said to Elizabeth. "I've made things much worse. I haven't made us many more friends out there."

The diplomat raised an eyebrow at him. "No? Look around you," she said, turning to face the control room, where both expedition personnel and the Pegasus locals were spilling onto the balcony. They were mingling together in crowds, chatting, laughing and making new friends. Nearby, Jinto and his father, Halling, were standing together, their foreheads touching in what Sierra now understood as an affectionate gesture. The woman John had introduced as Teyla Emmagan, the Athosian leader, was standing near them and turned at Elizabeth's words.

"I agree, Major Sheppard," she said. Sierra noticed for the first time how graceful the alien woman was. Without hesitation she moved to stand in front of John, placed her hands on his shoulders and inclined her head towards him. John threw a glance at her and Ford. Ford dropped his eyes, grinning into his cup. Sierra just raised an eyebrow at him. John looked back to Teyla and nervously lowered his head to touch hers.

John had always been awkward when showing emotion toward anyone, be it a friend, partner, teammate or wife. Family was easier for him, but more with Sierra and their mom. It was something he'd picked up from Dad.

After a moment, Teyla raised her head. "You have earned both my friendship," she said before gesturing to the people gathered on the balcony, "and that of my people. With our help you will make many more friends." She stepped back from John, smiling pleasantly at him, and then turned to engage Ford in conversation. They soon moved off towards the buffet table, leaving only Elizabeth, Sierra and John near the edge of the balcony.

"One more thing I'd like both of you to sleep on," Elizabeth said, stopping them as they began to head after Teyla and Ford. "I have a few thoughts on it myself..." She trailed off cryptically.

"Thoughts about what?" Sierra and John asked in union. They shared a glance, a tiny smirk pulling at the edges of John's mouth.

"Who the members of your teams might be?"

"My team?" John asked, surprised, at the same time that Sierra asked, "Teams? Plural?"

Elizabeth fought off a smile while the twins looked at each other again.

"Well, Major, you are the ranking military officer now; or do you need to be reminded of that?" John lowered his eyes with a mixture of sheepishness and regret. Elizabeth turned to Sierra. "And you, Captain, are now his Second in Command. A position like that needs a team to go along with it, don't you think?" Sierra's jaw became slack. She fumbled for words for a moment before Elizabeth continued. "We need to get back out there, do what we came here to do."

Sierra and John nodded in sync as Elizabeth stepped up to the balustrade to lean against it. Sierra was in shock. _My own team? Really?_ This was the best! She immediately regretted that sentiment because of the price that had been paid in order for her to get what she wanted. Regret and shame started to swamp her but she pushed it back. There would be time for that later, in the darkness of her room. Instead, she shared another look with John before moving over to join their boss.

"You do realize," John said, "that I can get us into all sorts of trouble, right? And that's just me."

"You've got both halves of the Sheppard Disaster Duo on your hands," Sierra chimed in, finally finding her voice. "That means a lot of bad luck... for decades to come."

-----XXX-----

Please review! Even if you didn't like it, I'd like to hear your thoughts.


	9. Hide and Seek

Hey all. Time for a new update. This chapter is a little shorter than previous, just under 4000 words, but I hope you all like it. We're getting into the tags now, so I hope that you like this chapter.

**Mail bag:**

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks very much. I hate Kavanagh too and it just made sense for him to rub Sierra the wrong way. You'll be seeing a little more of Stackhouse and Markham I hope, because I liked them in the show. Hide and Seek is also my favourite of Season one, but it's also the last time you see Sheppard really enthusiastic and smiling. He seems to become quite reserved after that episode.

To **jasminesmommy**, thanks very much for you review.

To **babygurl1944**, thanks and I'm glad you liked it. I really enjoyed writing it, actually.

To **baileylak**, I'm glad you're liking this story. I thought it seemed like an O'Neill thing to try and bend thing his way, testing out the boundaries of his new found authority. I only brought Lorne in because I know he appears later, and that Sierra and his meeting in Pegasus will shake things up a bit. Don't worry, I won't be turning him into a jerk, or anything. I like him too. I actually enjoyed writing the part about Sierra and Mitchell's goodbye – I kind of felt it myself as I wrote it. But don't worry; I don't think that this will be the end of it. As for the thing with the jumpers, I thought that it seemed appropriate that since they were linked to the ships with their minds, that there'd be some kind of transfer back to their bodies.

To **stargatesg1973**, I would _love _to re-write all the episodes from Sierra's POV, but she's not really a part of John's team. She and him aren't conjoined twins, and they have their own lives and own adventures. The way that I'm writing it, is so that there is another side to the story, where we explore what happens in the wings. I think that I'd be crossing too many Copyright boundaries if I re-wrote the whole series. Plus, that's 100 episodes! That's a LOT of writing! Whew!

To **EvilAngelsIceQueen**, thanks very much. I really love hearing that people enjoy this story. It keeps me motivated to keep at it.

To **Asugar**, in this following chapter, we do take a bit of a side-long look at John's mishaps and adventures. I just hope that I've done it right!

* * *

-----Chapter 9 – Hide and Seek -----  
Day 2 passed in a blurred frenzy as everyone tried to get settled and get as much of the equipment they had brought with them stored. At the end of the day, Sierra trundled back to her temporary quarters, exhausted, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep immediately.

Day 3 dawned over the majestic city of Atlantis, finding the twins sitting on a balcony poring over personnel files. It was late morning and Sierra had met John for a late breakfast, confessing that she hadn't found the time to go over all the files. John, bragging that he had already submitted the names of his team to Dr. Weir, had offered to help. They had been at this for two hours now, comparing the soldiers and civilians and considering who Sierra wanted on her team. Since their first night on the expedition, when they had been charged by Elizabeth to choose three other members for their offworld teams, the captain had been fretting about who she would pick.

"What about DiNardo?" John asked. Sierra looked up from the file she was currently perusing. Between them were two piles of files; 'Possible' and 'Definitely No'. The 'Definitely No' pile was the larger of the two.

"What's so great about him?" Sierra asked, bored. It had been a long morning.

"Her," John corrected. "She's an Army sergeant from Italy... collage Major in Politics... loves spelunking. Hmm, she sounds like you'd get along with her alright." Sierra suppressed a shudder. Ever since collage Sierra had loved cave hiking. She had been a part of a club and everything. That was until a few years ago, when there was an accident. She and a few of her friends had been exploring a cave when there was a flash flood. Only two of the five had survived – and Sierra had been one of them. John had been in the Middle East at the time and she had never told him about it. The deaths of her friends, combined with her fear of drowning and being underwater had scarred her for life.

"...she also wants to be a politician some day," John was saying, oblivious to the fact that Sierra had zoned out momentarily.

"Put her on a diplomatic team, then," Sierra said quietly, turning her attention back to the file in her lap.

"Yeah..." he said absently. John was also going through the files, not only to help her, but to try and find a place for most the military personnel on offworld teams.

Sierra flipped back to the front of her current file. Harrison Cole was a British Air Force lieutenant who had no doubt been named by avid Star Wars fans. Cole was rated a damn good pilot and had seen two tours of Africa already. His resume was impressive and his previous CO's had nothing bad to say about him. She looked to her right, where she had set aside two other files; Sergeant Louis Stackhouse and Sergeant Jared Markham. Both those were marines, and very young. Markham was the only marine on the expedition who was a carrier of the Ancient gene, like Sierra and John. Setting Cole's file on top of those, Sierra suddenly felt old.

"You find the last one?" John said standing up and moving to sit down next to her to pick through her selections.

"Yep," she said, leaning back against the cool wall of the tower and closing her eyes. "Stackhouse, Markham and Cole. They're the ones I like."

John chuckled beside her. "That wouldn't have anything to do with their mug shots, would it?"

Sierra cracked an eye open and glanced at the files that John had arranged next to each other so the file photos were showing. Next to each other, the photos all looked like ones taken from a modeling magazine. All three men were young and very attractive.

"Aw," Sierra said playfully, "you know me too well." In truth, that hadn't been her intention. Sierra always picked personnel, students or baseball teammates based on their skills. It wasn't her fault that they always turned out being the hottest in their field. Besides, Sierra preferred _older_ men, not teenagers, like so many of these recruits looked like.

"Anyway, like you can talk," Sierra continued, "you picked Ford and Teyla."

"And McKay," John interjected, "Don't forget him."

"Yeah, but that was an order from Weir – he doesn't count in this debate."

"Well, with those _boys_ on your team, looks like you guys'll be winning the Pegasus Pageant this year."

Sierra laughed. "What're _you_ talkin' about? You could win it on your own!" John made a fake outraged noise and Sierra only laughed harder. She roughly nudged his shoulder with hers as he chuckled with her. Soon the laughter died down, lapsing into comfortable silence.

Still, Sierra couldn't help but notice the slightly bitter taste to the relaxed atmosphere. Sierra had dreamed about this reunion for years, but she hadn't really wanted it under these circumstances. For starters, _she_ wanted to be the one who told John about the Stargate and all the alien life out there in the galaxy. And she had wanted to share the joy of the 302s with him. Glancing at him now as he skimmed through the files of her new team, Sierra was just glad that she didn't have to keep any secrets from him anymore.

There was, however, something that she hadn't gotten around to telling him. Lieutenant Ford had brought up the subject of John's knowledge of her career at the SGC. Sierra had asked the young marine to keep it to himself until she had a chance to tell him. Obviously, none of the rumors from Earth had made it his ears yet, otherwise John would be grilling her about it right now… the hypocrite.

She glanced at him again and this time he caught her eye. "What?" he asked gently, clearly seeing there was something on her mind.

Sierra drew a deep breath as John's eyebrows pitched in the middle. "I –" Sierra tried to find the right words. She knew that there was no way that she could say it that wouldn't cause John to blow his top at her, so she figured it was best just to say it. "I… did something bad," she said softly. "I did something _really_ bad."

John's expressive eyebrows conveyed his confusion perfectly. "What kind of bad?" he asked cautiously.

"Military bad," Sierra supplied. Then the words came, rushed and stumbling. "I had to do it; there was no way that I could just let it happen and not do _something_. I mean it was my fault, anyway, that he got shot down. If I had've been there with him, I might've been able to – but I wasn't so I did what I could –"

John cut her off with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Sierra – slow down, will ya. And take a breath." Sierra breathed. "Now, explain this to me slowly. And start at the beginning, for God's sake."

Sierra glanced at him nervously. "Promise you won't be too mad?"

John's frown was back. "What could you have possible done that would make me mad at you?"

She pursed her lips together. "You'll see." Sierra took another deep breath. "Well, it all kinda started when I got accepted into the 302 program…" Sierra gave him a quick run down of her missions with the Blue Phoenix squadron. She told him about her commanding officer, but omitted the bit about having an 'against-regulation exercise' with him, and then moved on to the incident in Antarctica. "He got shot down by a Death Glider and all I could do was watch. I felt so useless… so, I landed my plane, jumped out and ordered my co-pilot to leave me behind."

Sierra peeked at her brother cagily, waiting for the out burst. John, who had been silent and listening intently, suddenly tensed as the cogs and gears in his mind began to put together this information. The muscles in his neck tightened, his hands turning white as he balled them together into fists. He was suddenly on his feet, stalking to the opposite end of the balcony, where he grasped the balustrade tightly.

Sierra waited silently for him to calm himself. Unlike her, John didn't have an explosive and sensitive temper. But when he did get angry, there was nothing that could stop him and no where you could hide. Despite this, he didn't hold grudges for very long, so Sierra knew that once he had yelled at her then she didn't have to worry too much about him throttling her in her sleep.

Sierra waited for a long minute, watching as the muscles in his shoulders tensed, un-tensed and re-tensed. Biting her lip she suddenly realized that maybe this was something that would take a little longer for him to get over.

Finally he turned back toward her. "You –" He stopped his voice unable to shape the words. His eyes, however, conveyed everything he was thinking. Sierra cringed away from his intense glare. "You –" he tried again. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You… _deserted_?" He spat the word out with a hiss that stabbed Sierra through the heart.

She nodded stiffly. John abruptly turned away again, gazing out over the ocean. Sierra, who was beginning to remember the time when she had accidentally dented John's car and he had cracked up at her for it, tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It was a reflex action, a defensive mechanism; a futile attempt to protect herself from the barrage of hate that was coming her way.

John turned back to her, his mouth open in readiness to dish it to her, and promptly snapped it shut when he noticed her position. As John shut his mouth, his face softened, Sierra couldn't stop the tears that brimmed in her eyes as she watched his expression change from anger to pity. Unable to handle the expression in his face, she dropped her eyes from her brother, focusing on a point on the floor. Self-loathing rose in her and a pain so fierce pierced her heart. The same pain she felt in the hospital.

She knew it was stupid and weak of her to cry, but she couldn't stop the tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks. After a moment she heard John move away from the balustrade and walk over to her. He crouched down in front of her as she buried her face in her knees. Sierra didn't want him to see her crying.

"Sierra," he said softly. "I just… don't understand."

"You don't want to," Sierra mumbled to her knees, sniffling.

"Yeah, I do," John said, pulling her arms free from their grip on her knees. "Hey, I'm here, OK. I promise I won't get mad."

Sierra peeked up at him. "You did just a second ago," she said, sounding very much like a petulant child.

John smiled slightly at her tone. "I won't be mad anymore. Sierra, please…"

Sierra took a shaky breath and opened her mouth to tell him what had happened between her and Mitchell, but found she couldn't. An image of her CO, lying unconscious in the hospital, flashed before her eyes. She remembered with great clarity everything that had happened in the past year, and imagined what it would sound like to someone else's ears. '_I'm in love with my ex-CO, with whom I also slept with; who also put me up for promotion a month later_,' was the first sentence that ran through her mind and she snapped her mouth shut. What more incriminating evidence had she left out? '_Oh, and I was drunk and mourning when I slept with him_.' That made Mitchell sound like such a... bastard. And yet Sierra knew that he wasn't. Dashing her tears away, she cast a glance at John who watched her expectantly.

She knew immediately what he would think. That Mitchell had taken advantage of her, or coerced her, or something obtuse and untrue. That would be John's immediate reaction, his brotherly over-protective side raising its head. But Mitchell didn't deserve that; especially from someone who had never met him. Instead of telling John what had happened, Sierra lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"It's nothing," she said instead. "He just... he was a great guy. He was good to me, and I didn't want him to die." Sierra looked up at John sheepishly. "I mean, you went against orders to rescue two men you didn't even know..." Sierra petered out when she saw the ashamed look in John's eyes before he lowered them. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up, I just... I thought you might understand."

John raised his head again, looking at her for a long moment. Sierra knew he suspected that she was hiding something from him, and dropped her eyes. She shrugged as lightly as she could. "Doesn't matter anyway," she said softly, as the image of Mitchell in the hospital surfaced again. "He only just made it out of Antarctica alive, and there's a chance he won't ever walk again..."

"Did something happen between you two?" John asked, uncertainly. It took all of Sierra's self control not to finch as he said this, and shook her head. She didn't dare look at him in case he saw the lie there. John huffed, almost sounding disappointed.

"He's a good man, John," Sierra said, defending Mitchell. John looked at her for a moment.

"If he hurt you –"

"He didn't." That, at least, wasn't a lie. If anything, Sierra had hurt him more.

John set his lips into a slight scowl, turning down at the edges. "Fine," he said. He didn't say anything for a long moment. "He must have been a pretty great guy for you to desert for him."

Sierra narrowed her eyes, slightly. He was baiting her, she knew. John suspected there was more too it; he knew her too well. "Nothing happened, John," Sierra insisted, refusing to lower her eyes this time. "Stop jumping to conclusions, will you?"

It was John's turn to act like a petulant child. "Alright, alright. Sorry." John crossed his legs in front of him. "So, I take it you appeared before the J.A.G. after that?"

Sierra nodded and recalled the hearing for him. She told him about the President and O'Neill practically bailing her out.

"So that's how you got the Antarctica job?" John assumed.

"Yep. Part of my punishment." John understood that. Like she said before, John knew her too well. For a while they sat and talked about what happened during the Blue Phoenix missions and about Sierra's old squadron. She also tried to describe the 302s to John, explaining the handling and its capabilities. By the end of it, Sierra was almost sure that her brother was salivating.

Eventually, John's stomach growled and he insisted they grab lunch before he died from starvation. They dropped the remainder of the files off at Elizabeth's office and John waited patiently outside while Sierra gave the commander the names of her new team.

By the time they had finished eating in the makeshift Mess Hall, Dr. McKay managed to track them down. He was excited, out of breath and had a slight rash on his forearm. In the process of inhaling a power bar he explained to them that he had agreed to participate in Carson's experimental gene therapy and explained that the rash was a slight side-affect. Sierra tried not to roll her eyes. Anything to get the ATA gene.

The astrophysicist then dragged both of them off to his lab where he demonstrated some Ancient device he had found in some lab. Sierra didn't really pay a great deal of attention until McKay activated the device and began hitting himself on the head with a length of pipe. Both she and John were surprised when there was no blood once they got the pipe off him.

"See," he said, spreading his arms out. "No harm done. It's great, isn't it? It's a personal shield, I think. The Ancients made it. Pretty cool, huh? I'm untouchable! Hey, hey, hey!" McKay said backing away as John pulled his gun from his holster.

"I'm not gonna aim for anything vital," John said, flicking the safety off and pulling the trigger. The thundering bang echoed around the lab, followed promptly by a ricochet. Sierra watched as the shield around McKay's leg flashed green for a second and then flinched as a wall sconce on the other side of the lab exploded.

Sierra, suddenly feeling like she was in the presence of 5-year-olds, folded her arms across her chest while McKay yelled, "What, are you insane? You could have killed me!"

John was gazing at him somewhat in awe, and replied, "I was aiming for your leg. Relax, McKay; geez." McKay then seemed to realize what had just happened, and looked down at his legs.

"Huh," the scientist said. "Cool." He looked over at the sparking hole that once was a lighting fixture before looking back at John. "Neat."

Sierra saw a smirk spread over John's face. _Oh, no_, Sierra though.

"I've got an idea." Sierra winced.

-----XXX-----

When John started talking about throwing people off of balconies, Sierra cleared out of there, quick-smart. She wanted no part in it. Apparently it had all gone without a hitch and McKay had come out unscathed. It was a different matter for Grodan, however, who had ended up with a broken hand. Sierra didn't want to know how that had happened.

For the rest of that day, Sierra attended a few security meetings, had her first briefing with her team, who were all enthusiastic about being under her command, and had dinner with John, Ford and Teyla.

After dinner, Teyla asked both John and Sierra if they would mind telling some stories to the Athosian children. She said that Jinto, especially, was very interested in their world. John eagerly agreed; much too quickly, Sierra decided. She hung back a little as John walked beside Teyla back to the living quarters. She noticed that John orientated himself towards the Athosian leader slightly, paying her lots of attention. Sierra had seen this enough to know that John was flirting with her. Sierra snorted softly; typical. John's in another galaxy less than a week, and already he's turning into Casanova.

Sierra currently sat on a stool next to Teyla, watching as John told the story of _Friday 13th _to the entrapped youngsters. John had always had a gift with kids and Sierra thought that it was such a shame that he had never had any of his own.

"And when they finally thought he was dead," John said, in his best ghost-story voice, and flicking his flashlight on under his chin. "His cold dead eyes opened beneath his Hockey mask, and he rose up with his giant, bloody knife." John stood and held the flashlight like he was about to stab someone with it. And then, Jinto interrupted, the curious kid that he was.

"What's a 'Hockey mask'?" he asked. John froze, and then lowered his arm.

"Hockey's… a game…" he said, glancing at Sierra and then back at the small crowd of children at his feet. Sierra smiled. He really had _no_ experience with dealing with aliens. The children were gazing at him with a mixture of confusion and wonder. "Players skate around on the ice and try and put a puck into a net?" More confused faces. John was getting a little frustrated now. "The Goalies' wear masks – it's really… scary…" John trailed off, realizing he had lost his audience.

"Tell us more about this game," Jinto's friend, Wex, pleaded.

"Can we play it?" asked Jinto.

John pulled a face. "I don't really see the fascination," he said, sitting on the end of the bed again. "Now football – that's a real man's sport." Sierra rolled her eyes at him. He smiled sheepishly at her before looking back at the kids. "But that's for another night."

Halling, Jinto's father, smiled and said, "Yes, bedtime." The kids all groaned and began to stand.

"And don't forget folks," John said to them, continuing in a slightly mystical voice, "tomorrow night, Sierra's telling a new story, called _Nightmare… on Elms Street_." Sierra blinked as all the kids turned to her in awe. She didn't remember volunteering for that. She took in the eager looks on the young faces turned toward her, and nodded. Soon the children were ushered out the door and back to their respective quarters where their families were waiting.

Sierra hung back a little, when she saw John stop Teyla in the hall. She watched them for a moment, the way that John touched the alien woman's elbow lightly, and brushing his shoulder against hers as they walked slowly along the hall. Sierra cocked her head, curious. She heard Teyla ask John about football and John led her away towards his quarters.

Sierra contemplated what this meant for a moment. She had definitely noticed an attraction between her brother and the alien leader, but she wasn't sure what to make of it. John could be very charming when he wanted to be, something that hadn't changed since high school, and could sway any woman with a well-placed smirk or gesture. Sierra didn't know Teyla that well, but had already surmised that she was made of tough stuff. She was a strong woman, a fighter, and a leader. Sierra guessed that she would be a tough cookie for John to crack.

Sierra wandered back to her own quarters, ready for bed after a long day and an emotionally tiresome morning. Thinking of this morning, made all sorts of unwanted images pop into her head and she tried to push them aside. As the door slid closed on her room, it suddenly seemed impossible. It was almost as though those memories lived in the dark corners of her room, waiting to pounce. They haunted her dreams, tormenting her with a happiness she could never have, and waking her with a pain that ripped her heart into a million pieces.

Sierra leant against the wall and sunk down to the floor. What she would give to turn back the clock and change it all. She'd make sure that none of it had ever happened, that she never slept with Mitchell, that she never even took this damn job; that she stayed in her classroom and never found out that this world existed.

The worst part of it all was that she knew she wouldn't. Given the chance to go back and fix it, Sierra knew that she wouldn't change a thing. She was glad she had taken the job that Kerrigan had offered her, and that she had been paired with Mitchell for the Blue Phoenix mission, and that she had landed her plane and saved his life. If she hadn't then she never would have been sent to the Antarctic Base, where she reunited with John, and came to be here, in this magnificent city. Sierra could feel Atlantis thrumming beneath her hands, filling her with a sense of security and safety.

Despite the fact that she wished that things were different, she was fairly content with the way things were now. Some day they'd be able to return home, and maybe then she'd be able to set things right. They probably wouldn't be better. But they'd be OK. For now, Sierra was content with that.

Some day.

-----XXX-----

**A/N:** As I said before, this chapter was written as an episode tag. A sort of behind-the-scenes thing. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter; I got a bit carried away to begin with. In the first draft, I had Sierra telling John all about what happened between her and Mitchell. This was OK with me at first, until I remembered _Pegasus Project_, the Season 10 episode, and that John and Mitchell get along quite well. So, in order to stick to my current mantra of not changing anything, I had to change it. I think it kind of works out a little better this way. It's truly a Sheppard thing to hide their emotions and try and bury them until they can deal with them in their own way. Plus it adds a bit of an edge to her character.

Also, thanks to Asugar, who gave me the idea of Sierra's notation of John and Teyla's attraction. Thanks heaps.

Any way, please stay tuned for more!


	10. M1K439

Hi to all, welcome back! Finally, this is the latest update to my longest running (and most popular) story that I've ever written. Hoo-rah! I've been a little busy lately, what with moving house, starting to write a story for the Woman's Weekly competition, and taking a family vacation for a week. But now I'm back in the game, so, as usual, we begin with the Mail Bag.

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks very much for your review. I don't know exactly what compelled me to write that part where John shoots McKay, but once I had written it, it seemed so _right_; thanks Please keep reading!

To **gabumon**, thanks heaps for your review – I'm very glad you like it. Please stay with it.

To **jasminesmommy**, I'd love to tell you that you're right, but unfortunately, no (please see A/N at bottom as to why). I hope you like what I've done in this chapter instead. Please review!

To **babygurl1944**, I'm not going to say anything yet, but I do have something planned. Please stay tuned.

To **Rataniel Shep-O'Neill**, I'm so glad you're liking this story. Please keep reading.

To **Asugar** – I'm not giving _anything _away! No matter how you twist my arm! Kidding. But you are going to have to wait and see how everything pans out. There _is _a whole season, after all, before they can go back to Earth. I will tell you something, though (and this is a bit of a spoiler), but there is a HUGE twist coming for Sierra. And that's all I'm saying!

And finally, to **City of Atlantis**, thanks heaps for you review. I have noticed that in the early years of the show, there was a lot more flirting between them. Ever since Teyla got pregnant, though, there was a fair bit less of it. I hope I'm not the only one who has noticed that. Cheers.

Anywho, thanks all for reviewing, and please don't forget to review at the end of this chapter. Thanks again!

* * *

-----Chapter 10 – M1K-439-----  
Sierra walked into the Infirmary, swinging her arms like she was twelve-years-old. There was something in the air this morning, and Sierra was riding on it. Perhaps it was the fact that she was in full-kit and due to depart with her new team in a half hour's time. The thought sent shivers of joy down her spine. Yep, definitely that.

Needless to say, Sierra was beaming when she entered the Infirmary and made her way over to where John lay, dressed in the horrific red scrubs. She grimaced at his outfit, her smile still peeking through.

John peeked up at her through his eyebrows. "What're you so happy about?" he demanded, noticing her grin.

Sierra shrugged, blasé. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe it's 'cause I finally got my team back and I'm going on my first mission?"

John gave a small laugh and winced. He touched a hand to the bandage that covered one side of his neck. Sierra winced with him.

"Maybe you shouldn't, ah…" she started, giving a slight chuckle.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You don't need to tell me twice." Sierra smiled and adjusted her grip on her P-90 to sit on the stool next to his cot.

"So, when's Beckett letting you outta here?"

John shrugged, using the shoulder on his good side. "A few days, maybe tomorrow. By the way, you wanna watch that re-entry, it gets a bit bumpy sometimes."

Sierra smiled at him, knowing full well that the inertial dampeners on the jumpers compensated completely for that. And _she_ would be taking stick next time, being the only other pilot with the natural gene. Markham did do a pretty good job yesterday, and she knew that he was beating himself up about not retracting the drive-pods fully when they went through the 'gate. But Markham wasn't a pilot – he was a marine; and despite that, Sierra thought that he did pretty a good job. She had stood in the Control Room for the whole thirty-eight _agonizing_ minutes while everyone bickered and argued about the best way to get John and his team out of the jumper before the 'gate shut down, and save the members of Sierra's team stuck in the event horizon.

Sierra shook her head, getting the images of John's limp body in the back of the jumper out of her head, sighed and then got to her feet. "Well," she said. "I better get going. M1K-439 ain't gonna explore itself."

John smiled. "I hear there're waterfalls where you're goin'."

Sierra grinned back. "I'll take some snap-shots for ya, shall I?" John laughed lightly and Sierra's grin widened. She couldn't help but love the way they had eased back into the camaraderie, just like it had been years ago. Before Sierra had been angry with him; before Special Forces. Even before the war.

Sierra squeezed her brother's shoulder lightly. "Be good, OK? If I hear that you're terrorizing the nurses I'll be back here so fast you'll have whip-lash." She dropped her hand and turned to leave.

"Hey," John called after her. He leant over to the bedside table for a moment and then held something out to her. Sierra took it, noticing that it was the pouch that John kept his shades in. She slid them out of the soft pouch and turned them over in her hands. They were a little battered, the lenses covered in tiny scratches, and one of the arms was very loose. It also looked like John had chewed the ends at some stage. Sierra looked up at him.

"These are yours," she exclaimed. "You practically stomped me into the dirt when I accidentally lost them in my car. Why are you giving them to me?"

John gave his half-shrug again. "I got another pair," he said nonchalantly. "Besides, I don't think that I gave you anything for your birthday last year, so…" He trailed off, looking down at his hands. Sierra bit her lip, lowering her eyes as well.

This was surprisingly generous of John. Not that he was a selfish person (in fact he was incredibly generous when it came to charities, birthdays and spontaneous gift-giving), but when it came to his personal belongings, he was very possessive. Things like his car, his Play Station, his girlfriend (when he had one), and his sunglasses.

Sierra narrowed her eyes at him slightly. What was his angle?

"What?" he asked when he looked back up at her. "Look, there's no strings attached, OK? Just take 'em." John's raised eyebrow had turned into a frown. One other thing, he really didn't like getting gifts thrown back in his face. Sierra had learnt that the hard way a ton of Christmases ago when he had spent all his money on a really expensive piece of jewelry for her.

Sierra's eyes widened, briefly surprised by his tone. She then set her mouth in a line and tucked the glasses into her vest. "Thanks," she murmured to John, who just bobbed his head. Whatever eased environment they'd had a moment ago was gone.

_Well, crap_, Sierra thought. _I screwed that one up_. "Look, I'm sorry," she said taking a step closer to John's bed. "Thanks, really." She gave him a small smile that he managed to return. "I'll be back in a few days, OK? See you soon." John nodded to her. Sierra touched his knee through the sheets briefly before heading out the Infirmary door.

"Damn it," she hissed to herself heading to the nearest transporter. "You're an idiot, Sheppard. You shoulda just kept your fat mouth shut." A startled technician cast a sidelong glance at her and quickly hurried away at the look on Sierra's face.

Stepping into the Gate Room, where her team was waiting, did lift her bad mood a little, and by the time the Stargate had activated she wasn't so sour. Still, she hoped that her low didn't derail the mission too much. Besides it was just standard recon – what could go wrong?

Sierra snorted; famous last words or what?

----XXX-----

The Stargate deposited Sierra and her team in a grotto of trees and boulders, with rays of sunlight drifting down through the leaves and mingling with the mist that came from the waterfall to the south of the grotto. The waterfall thundered nearby, and Sierra walked towards the sound. She came to the edge of a sheer drop overlooking a deep crater and the waterfall dropped into it from a river that fed it. Millions of gallons of water rushed over the immense fall, causing mist to rise up over the ledge where Sierra stood, dampening her hair and covering her new shades. She pulled them off and tucked them into her vest pocket.

"Oh, very nice," Cole said as he walked up beside her, his English accent brisk. "Well, you don't see that on every planet." According to his wrap sheet, Cole had been at the SGC for a few weeks, as part of a trail program for the Brits to have their own SG team.

Sierra smiled. "No, you don't." Sierra pulled her camcorder out of the side pocket on her vest and took a quick video of the waterfall and the grotto surrounding the 'gate, the MALP and the DHD. At that moment a half dozen birds were startled by something and launched themselves out of the trees with a cry.

"Whoa!" Sierra cried, ducking as the birds swooped low over their heads. She turned and watched them fly over the waterfall and the jungle. The birds were huge – twice the size of the biggest eagle back on Earth and looked like multi-colored parrots.

"Wow," Stackhouse said as he and Markham came to stand next to her. "This is a biologists dream."

Sierra nodded, watching the birds fade into the distance. "Alright, guys, lets get moving. Once we've checked this place out a little then we can find a place to set up camp." Sierra stowed her camcorder and adjusted her hold on her P-90. She cast one last look at the waterfall and the drop before leading her team back through the grotto and toward a path in the trees.

The path didn't seem to be man-made, more made by an animal rather; something large, in fact. Sierra tried not to think about that part. As they followed the path the jungle became more dense and packed, the humidity rising. The four of them stopped by the path and stripped off their field jackets. Sierra was incredibly grateful to Teyla who had suggested she wear a sleeveless shirt to this planet with its climate. Teyla, being a native to this part of the universe, naturally had more knowledge of the Pegasus Galaxy and Sierra willingly accepted her wisdom.

At about lunchtime, the path they were following came to where a tree that had fallen over a river and the water was clear a crystal. While they were stopped for lunch Stackhouse claimed to see a fish the size of a dog, but by the time Cole had rushed over to see, it was gone. He and Markham poked fun at Stackhouse for a while until said fish leapt three feet out of the water and stole the power-bar that Markham was eating. They laughed for the next half a mile.

About three hours later, they came across another river that was too wide and deep for them to cross on foot. However there was a clearing on their side of the river and Sierra ordered them to start setting up a camp for the night. After she had gotten her and Cole's tent set up, Sierra took the field tester out of her back-pack and moved over to the river to test the water. This being a completely new galaxy, Sierra didn't want to risk drinking water that was going to poison her team.

She filled a small testing tube with water from the river's bank and dropped the testing stick into it. Screwing the top back onto the tube, Sierra gave it a quick shake and waited as the water changed color. It stayed clear. Perfectly fine. Sierra filled another two test tubes with water from the river and labeled them, putting them into slots in the top of the kit.

Sierra looked up as her name drifted across to her on the wind. Glancing over her shoulder at where Markham and Stackhouse were building a fire near the tents, Sierra heard a bit of their conversation.

"I'm telling you, Markham," Stackhouse was saying. "Just cool it. She's not angry at you, so relax."

"But after what happened yesterday –" he cut off and looked around. "Louis, I nearly got her brother killed. She should have me reassigned or something!"

"For God's sake, Jared, will ya forget it? Look, if she really hated you, then I doubt that she would have brought you on this mission. And for the last time: you're not a pilot. Besides, you did heaps better than I would have."

Markham's face was puckered slightly. "Only you would have remembered to check the drive-pods. Let's face it – I fucked up!"

Stackhouse grunted in disagreement and pulled out his lighter, starting the fire. He then cast a meaningful look at the other marine before heading towards the surrounding trees. "I'm gonna take a leak," he said. "Just forget it, will ya?" but Markham looked like he couldn't.

Sierra's felt a sense of déjà vu at the marines' conversation. It took her a moment before she recognized it; it was the same situation she'd experienced many times before when she was second-guessing herself. It usually took a quiet word with a CO to make that feeling lift slightly, but it rarely went away.

Markham blamed himself. And he thought that she blamed him, too. But she didn't. She _was_ a pilot and she knew exactly how hard it was to do that kind of thing. When flying a plane, or a ship, so many things are rushing through your head, and it certainly doesn't help when you're under pressure.

Sierra filled her canteen from the river, before standing and heading back to her tent and putting the field testing kit in the corner. Standing before the tent for a moment she cast a look around the camp site. It was now afternoon and the sun was just starting to go down behind the trees. Cole was setting up the boundary alarms and Stackhouse was subtly pulling a fishing reel from his back-pack, probably hoping to catch the enormous fish he saw before. Markham was still kneeling by the fire, looking forlorn.

As casually as she could, Sierra moved over to crouch in front of the fire next to Markham. "Nice fire, sergeant," she said lightly.

The marine glanced at her before dropping his eyes quickly. "Thank you, ma'am."

They were quiet for a moment, Sierra wondering briefly on the best way to approach the subject. She had never had to be a CO for many before, so this was a new thing for her. Hopefully she'd get it right. She took a breath.

"I don't blame you, Markham." The sergeant looked up at her for a moment, slightly startled at her assumption. "I kind of heard you and Stackhouse talking just before. I just want you to know that I'm not angry. And I certainly don't hate you."

"Yes, ma'am," he said softly, disbelievingly.

Sierra smiled slightly. "I remember the very first time I got in the cockpit of a F-15; I was terrified. I ended up lighting up the jet engine when I was still inside the hanger." Sierra smiled at the memory. "Oh, my CO hounded me for weeks. I wasn't aloud in a cockpit again for another month. And I was fresh off the simulator, too!"

She looked up at Markham, who was staring into the fire. "What I'm saying, Markham, is that even professionals screw up. No one expected you to pilot that jumper with expert precision. We all make mistakes, and no one expects you to be perfect every time. And Stackhouse is right, you're not a pilot. And for a non-pilot, I think that you did pretty well. If anything, I should be thanking you. You got my brother back in one piece. Which isn't something he's so good at himself."

Markham gave a small laugh at her joke. Sierra smiled. "You did good, Jared. Trust me on that." Sierra gave him a small thump on his shoulder before standing and setting her hands on her hips. "So, what's for dinner?"

-----XXX-----

The next morning dawned bright, with a light coating of dew over all the tents. Sierra ducked into the jungle for a private moment before heading back and ordering her team to start packing up. They checked in with Atlantis via radio, put the fire out and rolled up the tents, eating breakfast on the move.

"Cole, you're on point," she ordered as they moved further up the river to try and find a place where they could cross safely. Soon they came to a point where two rocks reached toward each other from either side of the river. The gap was an easy jump.

On the other side of the river, they followed another path through the jungle. Soon they came to a clearing and found themselves at the top of a massive waterfall that was even bigger than the one near the grotto where the 'gate was. The sound was deafening.

Sierra took a little more video of the waterfall and soon found a set of natural stairs that led down the side of the waterfall, with a rock wall on one side and a sharp drop on the waterfall side. Sierra took point this time and led the way down the slippery, moss-covered stairway. They took it slow, carefully making their way down. Sierra, knowing exactly how dangerous wet rocks could be from her spelunking days, set a slow pace. As they neared the bottom, Stackhouse, who was right behind her, started to hurry, urgent to get on the ground. Sierra urged him not to, but her warning came too late and a rock came loose under his foot, sending him sliding into the back of Sierra.

Markham managed to grab hold of Stackhouse before he slipped too far, but there was no one to grab hold of Sierra. Before she knew what was happening, Sierra was sliding, rolling, tumbling, down the uneven and curving stairs. And then suddenly she was airborne.

Sierra scrabbled at the edge of the drop, but her fingers couldn't hold her weight. She slid rather unceremoniously over the edge. The drop wasn't too high – only a few stories. Sierra had jumped out of planes at higher heights, but usually, she had a parachute or something that was defiantly going to break her fall. She stared at the water rushing up to meet her and realized that she had no idea how deep the river was, and whether there were rocks beneath the surface.

"Oh, crap!" she shouted a few seconds before she hit the water.

As it turned out, the water was rather deep at this point in the river, but Sierra's fall had given her enough velocity to go deep enough and hit the rocks at the bottom. She threw her arms out to try and stop her descent but her feet hit the rocks anyway. Pain shot through her left leg as she felt something crack.

Sierra exhaled a mouthful of bubbles and breathed in water. Panic filled her as she struggled to breath, momentarily overriding the pain in her leg.

She was drowning, she knew it. It was a horrifically familiar feeling to her, and she wondered if this was the last time she'd experience this sensation. Oxygen deprivation made her light-headed and she could no longer tell which way was up. Dark spots filled her vision and she blacked out.

-----XXX-----

Consciousness was a strange thing after drowning, Sierra thought idly as she felt the water draining out if her lungs. She heaved a great spluttering gasp, her body reacting reflexively. Rolling onto her side, she heaved and coughed the last of the water from her throat, gasping in sweet, wet air in between.

Rolling back onto her back, she cried out in pain as she jostled her broken leg. She then felt hands holding her down.

"Easy, Capt'n," came Markham's voice from somewhere near her head. "You're alright; just take it easy."

"I think it's broken," Cole said from near her feet. Sierra lifted her head enough to see that the British lieutenant nearly as soaked as she was, rooting through the med-kit. "Stackhouse, find me something to brace it with."

Stackhouse, who had been crouched next to her, stood up and disappeared from Sierra's life of sight. He soon returned with a thick stick the length of Sierra's calf. She was momentarily blinded with pain as Cole splinted her leg. She felt hands holding her down again.

And then there was sudden relief. Sierra blinked and looked up at Cole again. He had a morphine syringe in his hand.

"Thanks," she muttered to him.

His face was grim. "You're welcome, captain. I've done the best I can, but we need to get you back to Atlantis very soon." He looked back up the way they had come.

It was then that Sierra noticed where she was. Somehow, she had ended up on the bank of the river, at the very bottom of the natural staircase. She looked back at Cole.

"Cole, why are you so wet?" she asked.

Cole gave a grim smile. "I used to be a life-guard at the community pool in Manchester."

"You should've seen him, ma'am," Markham said excitedly. "He practically ran down the last few steps and then dove straight into the water! By the time me and Stackhouse got to the bottom he was carryin' you out lookin' like David Hasselhoff!"

"You a big _Baywatch _fan, are you, sergeant?" Cole said coolly. Sierra laughed lightly as Markham blushed.

Sierra glanced at Stackhouse, who was looking at her broken leg very guiltily. "Don't even start thinking that, Stackhouse," Sierra said. The young marine looked up at her, startled.

"It's my fault, ma'am," he said, looking down again. "I made you fall. I was hurrying – Stupid Fucking Me!"

"Oh, stop it will ya," she said. She paused for a moment to cough some more. "I took point for a reason, OK. You're on my team, you're my responsibility. If I have to fall in a river and break my leg to keep you lot safe, then I'd do it, alright. So stop wallowing or I'll have you replaced."

Stackhouse looked at her cagily, casting her a forlorn look. That made Sierra a little cross.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys," she said, looking pointedly at Stackhouse and Markham. "Especially you two. If I'm mad at you, I'll tell you, believe me! If I really want to, I'll rip it into ya with no remorse. But I'll only do that if you deserve it, OK? So, stop your moping, Stackhouse, and get me the Hell outta here!"

The two young marines exchanged startled glances and then stood up to fetch sticks and ropes to fashion a stretcher. Cole cast her an amused glance. She smiled back.

"Thanks, Harrison," she said holding her hand out to him. He grasped it firmly.

"You're welcome. I'd like to think you'd do the same for me."

Sierra nodded, letting her hand drop. "You betcha. Even for those two." She jerked her head in the marines' direction.

Cole returned her smile and then stood to help the other two lash together a stretcher. Sierra smiled to herself, glad that she'd picked Cole as her 2IC.

Suddenly, exhaustion swamped her, forcing her eyes shut. _Man_, she thought. _Almost drowning can sure take a lot out of you. _

-----XXX-----

With a great deal of difficulty the three men managed to get Sierra up to the top of the waterfall, where they had started down. They set the stretcher down at the top, under some trees, Sierra wincing as the morphine wore off.

Stackhouse and Markham collapsed on the ground next her stretcher.

"Next time we bring a jumper," Stackhouse said. Cole looked at him, dismayed.

"A jumper wouldn't have been able to land down there, sergeant," he said. "And I don't think that one would even be able to make it out of the 'gate. Use your brain, marine."

Stackhouse, looking flustered, hot and bothered, bristled at Cole's words. "I ain't a pilot, _lieutenant_," he said icily. "So _excuse me_ if I didn't know that!"

The Brit looked about ready to retort, but Sierra called out to them.

"Oi!" she shouted. "Knock it off, both of ya! I may have a broken leg, but that doesn't mean that I can't shoot ya both!"

Both men had the sense to look apologetic. They both muttered sorry to the other and broke out some rations that weren't soaking wet. After they had all eaten they started back to the spot they had camped at last night. The tricky part, of course, was getting back over that crossing point over the river.

Cole coordinated the maneuver from one side of the river, getting Stackhouse and Markham to slide Sierra's stretcher over the gap. Her heart was doing the hundred-mile sprint the whole time.

They got the camp set up again, but couldn't get a fire going; mainly because a thunderstorm chose tonight to roll in. Huddled in their tent, Sierra and Cole got talking. The conversation was pretty light for a while, until Cole asked a slightly difficult question.

"With all due respect, Captain, do you mind if I ask what compelled you to desert your post during the Dogfight over Antarctica?"

Sierra couldn't help but admire Cole's accent. Sierra, slightly groggy from her latest dose of morphine, looked at him for a long moment. She then shrugged. "My CO's plane went down, I was the only one close enough, so I landed my bird to save him. Easy as that."

The thing about telling this story was that it was getting easier to omit certain facts from it. Cole nodded, seeming to accept this tale.

"I think there's more to it," he said casually.

Sierra blinked at him. _Or perhaps not_. "I don't know what more you want to know – that is _exactly_ why."

The lieutenant shrugged. "Pardon my assumption, but I believe that there is always more to a situation when an officer risks everything they have to save the life of one man."

Sierra frowned a little. This guy was no dummy. "I don't know what you _think_ you know, lieutenant" she said stiffly. "But there is nothing more. Don't turn this into something its not."

Cole gave her a long appraising look. Then he nodded. "I apologise, ma'am. It is not my place to question your decisions."

Sierra's frown deepened before she looked away. "Too right," she muttered to herself, unheard over the pounding rain on the canvas tent.

-----XXX------

Sierra dreamt that night; of that mission in Antarctica. She was flying, high over the ice, dodging missiles, bullets, and enemy fire. Then there was a voice in her ear, a familiar voice, clear as day.

"Sierra, I need you."

"Cameron?" she whispered, pulling the mask away from her face.

"Sierra, where are you?" the voice asked, sounding almost desperate.

"I'm here," she said, her throat constricting slightly. "Where are you? I can't see you!" Sierra twisted in the cockpit trying to see his plane.

"I'm right here," he whispered. Sierra turned in her seat to look into her co-pilot's seat, and there he was, his beautiful face bruised and battered, blood staining his lips. His eyes were open, unseeing, pale as ice and cloudy.

"NO!" Sierra cried, and sat up, wide awake. She was in the tent, on M1K-439, with a broken leg. She wasn't in the cockpit of an F-302, over Antarctica, with Cameron Mitchell, dead, in her back seat.

She took a deep, calming breath, before lying back down on her pillow. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing through her nose to get her heart to stop pounding. She stole a glance over at Cole.

His eyes were open, watching her calmly. She blinked at him, wondering how much he had gotten from her nightmare. She didn't like to think of Cole as being a bad guy, but she hadn't known him long enough to be sure. She knew that if she said anything to him now, that he'd take their conversation earlier in probably the right direction. She had to trust that even if he did figure it out, that he'd keep it to himself. She really didn't want to be wrong in her earlier opinon of her 2IC.

She turned away from him, staring at the ceiling of the tent. Images filled her head, filling her heart with pain at the same time. She tried to will away the tears that were prickling in her nose and closed her eyes again. Trying to think of something happier than Mitchell's corpse was rather difficult, especially when happy thoughts of him only made her heart hurt more. Instead she started thinking of what Carson and John would say when she got back home. This, at least, would ensure a dreamless sleep.

-----XXX-----

"Typical," John said as he stood at the foot of Sierra's cot in the Infirmary. "The day I get outta here is the day you come in."

Sierra smiled through the foggy haze of morphine. "We're twins, John, what d'you expect. We think a lot alike, you and me."

John returned her smile. "Take any good pictures, then?" he asked.

She scowled. "No. My camcorder got damaged when I fell in the river. That means you'll have to go there yourself one day."

"Sounds cool." He tapped her good foot. "Get some rest, 'Erra," he said, using her nickname from childhood. "I'll come back in the morning."

Sierra smiled and settled back into the sheets, watching John's retreating back. One image lingered in her mind; a happy image – Cameron Mitchell, smiling and whole, watching over her as she slept. It was an imaginary image, as Mitchell had never watched over her when she was in the Infirmary. Still, it was a pretty safe image for her to conjure and didn't hurt. One day, hopefully soon, there'd be a day that she wouldn't think of him, that the memory of him wouldn't cause her so much pain that she couldn't breath.

One day…

-----XXX-----

A/N: As you all no doubtlessly noticed, this chapter is set just after _38 Minutes_. I thought about somehow making Sierra apart of the mission to the planet where Sheppard gets attacked by the Iratus bug, but nothing I came up with seemed right. Instead I decided to by-pass it entirely, and have this chapter start with Sierra going on her first offworld mission. Also, seeing as this story is primarily about Sierra and her view, I figured that a team bonding chapter was in order. Please let me know what you think. I'm thinking that the next chapter will be set around _Suspicion_.

A/A/N: Please remember that I won't be re-writing _all_ the episodes from the series. There is a hundred episodes and that is a _LOT _of writing.


	11. Suspicion

Hi all! I am soooo sorry that it took me so long to submit this new chapter – I wasn't expecting it to take so long to right. That and the fact that I've discovered _Tin Man_ since I submitted last, so I've been reading up on those fan fics. And now on to the mail bag.

To **cflat**, thanks heaps for letting me know about the title! That was just weird. And I felt the need to add that in, because I knew that they hadn't really covered Markham's reaction in the show. It's also the reason I created this story and character, so that I can explore what goes on behind closed doors a bit. Thanks again.

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks. I was getting a bit worried, too. I wanted to have a bit of action in that chapter (what's a mission without some excitement?) but I didn't know how to do it. Then I remembered going to a huge crater lake when I was a kid and imagining falling in. It kind of grew a mind of its own from there. Also, I made up the names for Stackhouse and Markham – I hope no one minds.

To **Alys5**, welcome aboard! I'm glad your liking this. If you like Cole there's a bit more of him in this chapter and there'll be more in the next update. Please stay tuned.

To **jasminesmommy**, oh, I know! Kidding; I'm glad that you think that. Unfortunately I have to keep reminding myself that she _is _John's twin and that they are very alike. Otherwise she could end up like a distant cousin!

To **gabumon**, thanks. Please keep reading.

To **Silent Me**, thanks very much. I'm glad your enjoying it. Cheers.

To **soulsurvivor156**, haha, thanks very much. Yeah, with their relationship, she and John are just starting to pick up the pieces from where they left off, so there's bound to be a little tension happening (as you will see with this chapter). But that's how it is with every sibling relationship. And please stay tuned for more Sierra/Cam stuff.

OK, now please sit back and relax for the next chapter. As always, reviews are welcome. Cheers :)

-----Chapter 11 – Suspicion-----

Sierra bounced from one foot to the other, as her opponent circled her. She knew his moves inside and out, almost like she knew herself, and was ready for the swing as it came from her left. She blocked it easily and the next two swings before she was able to get her own in, putting him on the defensive. But her opponent knew her moves just as well. Sweat rolled down her brow as they danced across the mats in the gym, the spectators' subtly passing money between them.

A well-aimed kick caught her opponent in the stomach causing him to double over with a grunt. She used the opportunity to drop to a crouch and kick his legs out from under him. He landed on his back with a yelp and Sierra immediately leapt on him, pinning his arms and straddling his chest.

A cheer when up from the spectators and Sierra smiled to herself. She stood up and faced the soldiers gathered. "And that, marines," she said, wiping her sweat band across her forehead, "is how you do it."

There were several whoops, accompanied by a few groans of disappointment, and more exchange of money – before her view suddenly shifted and Sierra's feet were knocked from under her. As her back hit the mat the air was knocked from her lungs.

There was another cheer, and then someone practically sat on top of her. A collective chuckle came from the crowd.

"Isn't there something in the rules of engagement about not turning your back on your enemy?" said John from his perch atop of her.

Sierra sucked in a restricted breath, feeling his tail bone digging into her ribs. "Shut up, John," she hissed at him. "If you were a Wraith I would have decapitated you by now. Now get the Hell off me!"

John chuckled and helped her to her feet. Most of the marines that had gathered to watch the bout had paired off to their own space of gym-mat. Sierra picked up her towel and canteen, taking a large swig.

"How's McKay doin'?" she asked, curious how her brother's bed-ridden teammate was doing. As John and his team returned from their recent mission (under fire, again) McKay had copped a Wraith weapon blast right in the face. They hadn't been sure what damage had been done until they got him to the Infirmary. It had been a tense few moments for Team Sheppard.

John threw his own towel over his shoulder and sat on the bench to retie his shoelaces. "He's awake. Still mostly paralyzed, but. Beckett says he'll be fine."

Sierra nodded and sat down beside him. "Someone's out to get you, John," she said solemnly.

He sighed and leant back against the wall of the city. "I know. At least it's just Wraith this time, right?"

Sierra snorted. "For now. You have a unique ability of attracting trouble."

"Yeah, and it only seems to get worse whenever you're around," John said, nudging her playfully.

Sierra smiled quickly, feeling it slide off her face just as hastily. "This isn't coincidence anymore, is it? Them showing up every mission?"

John sighed again. "Nope. Elizabeth agrees. She thinks that there's a spy in the city."

Sierra looked down at her hands. It wasn't a pleasant thought. "Makes sense," she said. "This is, what, Encounter Five? Out of nine missions. Despite how much I hate to say it, Elizabeth could be right."

John grunted in accent. Sierra could tell that the idea wasn't a pleasant one to him either. John stood up with a groan. "Argh," he said, wincing. "See, _this_ is why I go running instead of fight with you."

Sierra spared herself a chuckle. "Only 'cause I can kick your ass every time, you big baby," she muttered to him just loud enough to hear. John turned slowly, his eyes narrowed, and pouted as Sierra stood slowly with a sly, mocking smile. Sierra was a whole head shorter than him and she raised herself on the tips of her toes so that she was closer to his level. A bigger smile twitched on her face.

John let out a laugh and then threw his arm around her shoulders and, with superior strength, pulled Sierra into a head lock. She squealed playfully and tried to wrestle her way free as he attempted to Noogy her. Sierra gave one last attempt to pull herself free. As her head came out of John's grip she tripped over a leg that he had put behind her in an attempt to steady himself. There was a sharp pain in the back of her head as she came down on the floor.

-----XXX------

John followed Sierra into the Infirmary looking rather guilty. Grumbling half-heartedly, she made her way towards Beckett's hovel, John still following.

"You got a sec, Doc?" Sierra asked at the door to his office.

Carson looked up and was slightly startled by Sierra's appearance; she held John's gym towel to the back of her head partly as revenge for tripping her, and to staunch the steady trickle of blood coming from the wound that now donned the back of her skull. Blood had run down the back of her neck and over her shoulder, staining her tank top rather gruesomely.

"Wha' happened?" Carson sighed, standing from behind his desk and recovering from his initial surprise.

"My brother tripped me," Sierra said indigently. John gave Carson a guilty smile. "I hit my head on the seat in the gym."

"Sorry, 'Erra," John said softly.

She sighed as Carson led her over to the nearest free cot. "It's OK, John," she said. "You've given me worse than a split head."

His mouth twisted into a proper smile. "True," he said. He glanced toward the other side of the Infirmary. "Um, I'm gonna go check on McKay. You OK here?" When she nodded, he took a few steps before turning back to Sierra. "I really am sorry, 'Erra," he said, his shoulders slumped and his hands in his pockets.

Sierra gave a tiny laugh. "Give it a rest, John. I know you didn't mean it." John smiled at her apologetically before heading over to where Rodney was sleeping, the slightest bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. She laughed again before quietly saying, "I swear, Carson, it's like being ten-years-old again."

The doctor glanced at her from where he was dabbing at the wound in her hair. "Aye," he said. "Now ye know how _I _feel; especially after last months' incident with that personal shield device." He tutted. "Bunch o' children, if ye ask me."

Sierra couldn't help but smile at the memory. "It's just like when we were kids, him getting in trouble all the time." She laughed, remembering an incident from their childhood. "You know, once John got himself stuck inside a hollow log. Wedged his ass in there real good." It had taken their father and two firefighters over an hour to get him out of it. John had found it the funniest thing that had ever happened to him, while Sierra had been worried out of her mind.

Carson cleaned the cut on her head and prepped a needle and thread to begin stitching the wound closed. Ignoring the tugging sensation as the doctor worked, Sierra looked over to where John sat on a stool next to McKay's cot, watching him sleep. As she looked on, John picked up a tongue depressor that had been sitting on the table next to the cot and prodded the astrophysicist with it gently. John looked around guiltily for a moment before leaning over McKay a little more and tracing it across his cheek. Sierra had seen him play practical jokes on every roommate they'd ever had, but most particularly their brother, Dave. She rolled her eyes and blamed her brother's childish behavior on watching _Stakeout_ too many times in collage. By the time Carson was done, John had only managed to get McKay to swipe at it twice.

"Now, I want you to take these," Carson said, handing her two aspirin, "and take it easy. You start to feel light-headed or things go blurry, you call me right away, alright."

Sierra nodded. "I will, Carson. Thanks a million." The Scotsman gave an aspirated sigh and a smile, as he helped her off the cot. Sierra watched him go with a small smile before moving to stand behind her brother. He was so engrossed in tormenting the sleeping McKay that he didn't notice her presence.

"McKay!" she shouted just as John was leaning over the doctor again, making McKay start awake. Rodney, seeing John leaning over him with a tongue depressor, quickly put two-and-two together and started shouting insults at John, blaming him for waking him. John, in turn, started to blame it on Sierra, who had already started walking away, her job done. Carson came hurrying back out of his office at all the noise, barely even noticing the smug, self-satisfied smile spread across her face.

-----XXX------

Sierra dragged a hand through her hair mindful of the stitches in the back of her scalp. She touched the spot gingerly scowling at the memory of yesterday's training session. Washing her hair last night had been a bitch. She had just come from an early training session and a late breakfast, and was heading to the Jumper Bay.

Stepping into the transporter, Sierra idly thought about the meeting that John's team was having with Elizabeth and Bates, the Head of Security, this morning. When it came to the safety of their people, the security of the base was a number one priority. The last thing they needed was a spy in their midst that was feeding the Wraith information on all of John's missions.

Sierra shuddered at the idea of someone in the city consciously betraying them. And then this morning outside the gym she had overheard Bates' explaining to Weir his theory that it was an Athosian who was tipping off the bad guys. Sierra felt a rush of anger towards the sergeant. From what Teyla had told her, no Athosian would feel personally inclined to tattle to a race that had delivered so much terror and fear for generations.

Realizing that she had been staring at the touch-panel of the transporter for the last minute, Sierra hastily pushed the button for the Control Tower. Radik had asked her to help him with figuring out the jumpers a little more, and seeing as it was Radik that was asking, as opposed to McKay, Sierra agreed.

The transporter doors closed and Sierra felt energy pulse around her as the tiny room was 'beamed' across the city. She shivered with the sensation.

As the doors opened and Sierra stepped out, she bumped into Teyla who was on her way into the transporter.

"Whoa, Teyla," Sierra exclaimed, grabbing the other woman's shoulders to steady her. "Sorry there. Hey, you alright?" She noticed that Teyla's face was set grimly and there was a fire in her eyes that Sierra had to say was anger.

The Athosian warrior-woman took a deep breath through her nose before answering. "Yes, I am. Thank you, Captain Sheppard."

"Please, call me Sierra; less of a mouthful."

Teyla frowned for a moment. "I have no trouble pronouncing your name, Captain, but if you prefer…"

Sierra smiled crookedly. "I do – it's less formal." _And something my CO used to do_, Sierra thought absently to herself but jerked her mind back to the present.

Teyla gave a small nod, her features softening slightly. "Very well… Sierra." She glanced back the way she came for a moment and the hardness was back. "Pleasant day to you," she said before stepping into the transporter.

"You too," Sierra said as the doors closed. _What was _that_ all about?_ She wondered absently. She cast a glance over her shoulder, the way Teyla had come. Through the glass of the door out to the Lower balcony, Sierra saw a figure leaning against the railing. The dark, messy hair made it impossible not to recognize him. Sierra frowned and started toward the balcony.

"What did you do to Teyla?" she demanded as she opened the doors mentally, making for a slightly dramatic entrance.

John turned to look at her, a little startled, then frowned at her tone. "That would be 'sir', lieutenant. And don't start with me," he said turning back to face to ocean, the wind ruffling his hair slightly.

Sierra raised an eyebrow and went to stand beside him. "It's 'captain' now, remember? You recommended my promotion after Kuwait?"

"I remember, Sierra. But you sound exactly like you did when we were in Eagle Squadron. Nagging me all the time."

Sierra shrugged. "You didn't listen to me then either."

"Yeah? So what's you advice this time? Lock 'em all up and forget about 'em?"

It was Sierra's turn to frown. "Whoa; defensive." She held her hands up in surrender. "I'm not here to give you advice – I just ran into Teyla. She seemed… distracted?"

John scoffed. "Distracted? Are you kidding? She looked down-right murderous." John was silent for a long moment. "She looked at me like I betrayed her."

Sierra watched him for a moment. His face was impassive, but Sierra had heard the tone of regret in his voice. He liked Teyla very much, Sierra had already guessed that. And suggesting to her that one of her own people was possibly working with the Wraith was likely the biggest insult someone could hurl.

"Just give her some time," Sierra suggested. "They're still new here, and new to the way we do things."

"I tried to explain that to her," he said, glancing down at his hands. He turned his head towards her a little. "I haven't screwed this up, have I?"

Sierra started a little at the question. It wasn't a common thing for John to question himself, especially not aloud. Self doubt was usually a fully internal thing with him. He must think things were really bad to be voicing his uncertainties.

Sierra felt pity rising in her but pushed it back, knowing that John would hate seeing it. "No," she answered, shaking her head. "I don't think Teyla will hate you for this. She may not like it, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't understand the situation. It'll be fine."

She could see that John really wanted to believe her words. "I hope your right," he said softly, as the wind blew in from the ocean, making Sierra's short locks whip about her face.

_So do I_, she thought to herself.

-----XXX-----

Sierra sat at her desk in her quarters as the hour passed 19:00. After she had helped Radik out with the Jumpers, the rest of her day had been uneventful. She was now busy catching up on the paperwork from her team's last mission. At dinner, she had run into Elizabeth and had talked to her for a while about the interviews that were happening with the Athosians. The diplomat appeared to be a bit frazzled as she was meeting a lot of resistance with her meetings. She said that she would be glad when they were over.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Sierra cast a puzzled look over her shoulder, trying to think of who would be visiting her at this time of night. Moving over to the door, she palmed it open and for a moment was slightly startled to see Teyla there. Then she remembered.

Seeing as Sierra had been a teacher at her previous occupation, Elizabeth and John had suggested that she teach Teyla how to read and write their written language. The most common written language in this galaxy was Ancient, and only a small portion of the people on the base could actually read that fluently. So, it was almost necessary for Teyla to understand their language. After that, Sierra had to move onto the computer systems… Well, at least Teyla could speak English.

"Captain – Sierra," Teyla greeted. "Is this a bad time?" she asked, seeing Sierra's confused expression.

"No!" Sierra said standing aside to let Teyla in. "Not at all. I just…" Sierra hesitated.

"You were not expecting me?" There was terseness to her voice.

Sierra felt a wave of sympathy for the other woman. "I thought that you might've wanted to skip today's lesson… especially after today."

Teyla lowered her head a little. Sierra suspected that the day had worn on her. "I would rather not let the… situation distract from previous engagements."

Sierra smiled a little. She couldn't help but wonder if Teyla was always so formal. "I understand," she said. "Come on in and we'll get started.

They had just finished the English alphabet (Teyla had breezed through that) and were now onto vowels and consonants. But Teyla's heart didn't seem to be in it.

Finally, after repeating the difference between vowels and consonants and their uses for the third time in half an hour, Sierra set down her note pad and looked pointedly at Teyla. The other woman looked up at her, confused and surprised at the intensity of Sierra's gaze.

"Did I do something incorrect?" Teyla asked, glancing down at her own note pad. Sierra couldn't help but notice how foreign the ballpoint pen looked in her slender warrior hands.

"No," Sierra replied seriously. "But something has got you majorly distracted. Do you wanna talk about anything?"

Teyla frowned as though confused by Sierra's wording before sighing and setting her pad and pen aside. "May I speak with you, as a confidant… and a friend?"

Sierra blinked; as if she needed to ask. "Of course you can."

Teyla nodded in thanks. "I fear–" she started, pausing a moment and looking at her hands. "I fear that I am torn." She looked up at Sierra, her eyes conflicted. "Between the needs of my people, and my own desire to stay in the City of the Ancestors and fight. Can they not see that I would stay for them?"

There was a sudden passion in her voice that Sierra had heard once or twice before, when describing how distressing their lives were on the run from the Wraith. But there was also a desperation that she'd never heard before and Sierra wasn't entirely sure what she was referring to, though. "What's happened, Teyla?"

The other woman looked lost for a moment. "My people talk of leaving this place. _My_ place is with them… but I do not wish to join them. I do not know what to do," she finished softly. Sierra wondered how long she had been stressing over this.

"We all have to make difficult decisions in our lives, Teyla," Sierra said earnestly. "Believe me, I've made some shockers. But it's the difficult ones that help us grow." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You have to do what _you _think is right. No one can make that decision for you."

Teyla looked at her, wide-eyed. Her bottom lip seemed to tremble slightly, and she looked more vulnerable than she ever had in the short time that Sierra had known her. The Athosian woman looked down at her hands again. "Crossroads have never been my strong suit."

It seemed like an unusually Earth-thing to say. Sierra smiled reassuringly. "You're a leader, Teyla. It'll be second-nature to you soon enough."

The Athosian gave her a grim smile and picked up her pad again. "I never thought there might be a day when I could be separated from my people." She glanced up at Sierra. "I believe I now have a small idea of what you feel, being separated from Earth.

Sierra looked down for a moment as one face flashed behind her eyes. She forced a smile as she blinked it away before the pain started. "It gets easier." Sierra picked her own pad up. "Now, consonants are every other letter of the alphabet. And, you can't have a word that doesn't have a vowel in it – just doesn't work."

Teyla smiled gratefully at her over the top of her pad. Sierra smiled back gently.

"Thank you, Sierra."

"Anytime."

-----XXX-----

The news of Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford's discovery of a sizable chunk of land the next morning swept through the city like wildfire. For the first time since they had arrived in the city, the Rumor Mill was put into overdrive. Rainforest hikes, sunbathing and surfing had never been such hot topics for the men and women of the Atlantis expedition. As Sierra sat in the Mess Hall the afternoon after the mainland's discovery, she felt the swirl of conversation flow and ebb around her.

John, of course, was the boulder of gloom in the middle of the stream. She had spoken with him quickly as he came out of the Jumper bay right after the scouting mission, Ford bouncing excitedly beside him, and he seemed very proud of his discovery. She had also joined them in the debriefing with Weir, Bates and McKay, and watched her brother's face become darker by the second.

Now Sierra cast a concerned glance at John as he moodily stabbed at his dinner, while the late afternoon chatter buzzed around them. She opened her mouth several times to say something reassuring, but everything she thought sounded condescending in her mind. Instead she looked back down at her tray and kept silent.

Sierra knew very well that John was thinking particularly nasty things about Sergeant Bates right now. And possibly about Elizabeth, too. This definitely wasn't starting out to be a good week for John. Sierra bit her lip and decided to finally break the silence.

"So, some sweet waves, huh?" she said, hesitating when John didn't even register her attempt at conversation. "Now I wish I'd brought my surf board."

"You don't surf, Sierra," John said, monotone, pushing a few peas across his plate. "Hell, you don't even swim anymore."

Sierra bit the inside of her cheek. So he _had_ noticed her change in recreational activities. "Well, I bet there's some pretty cool hiking trails, then."

He snorted, his eyes still on his food. "Yeah, ones probably carved by massive dogs… or killer wombats, or something worse."

Sierra sighed in frustration. Obviously the Mainland was a touchy subject. "God, John; anyone'd think that you wished you never found that chunk of land."

His eyes darted up to hers. "Well, maybe I do! Do you know what Bates and Weir wanna do with it?"

"Yes, John, I do – I was there too, remember?" John's voice was rising in volume, and Sierra hoped she might be able to placate him slightly.

But John continued like she hadn't spoken. "They wanna turn it into a fucking penal colony, that's what. Maroon the Athosians there with God knows what kind of alien monsters and make 'em fend for themselves! They're our friends – aren't we s'posed to be treatin' them better than this? I mean, accusin' them of workin' with the Wraith is bad enough, but this–"

"John!" Sierra hissed at him. "Stop making a scene, and shut up will ya?" Most of the people within earshot were staring at him. He promptly shut his mouth and looked back down at the cold food on his plate. He looked ashamed and angry at the same time.

Sierra cast a concerned glance at him. "Look," she said in a hushed voice. "I know that you don't agree with some of the things that are goin' on around here, but you probably shouldn't go mouthing off like that. People start doubting the ones in charge, and then you get a mutiny."

He looked up at her sharply, frowning crossly. "Don't lecture me, Sierra; I'm not in the mood."

She frowned back. "Yeah, well sometimes you need it." He glared at her across the table. The training session that had them playfully wrestling on the gym floor seemed like weeks ago now, instead of two days ago. John's fist was clenched like he wanted to hit her for real now. If Sierra pushed him too far, she knew he would.

"Firstly; there's a time and a place, John," she said coolly before standing and picking up her tray, moving well out of range. "You know it as well as I do. Secondly; Elizabeth would never make the Athosians go anywhere they don't wanna go. And thirdly; Bates is Head of Security. He was also Sumner's right-hand-man, so there's no surprise he doesn't like you. Don't make him hate you more."

John gave her a cold smile. "Now you definitely sound like you did back in Eagle squadron."

Sierra's lips quirked. "And maybe this time you'll listen to me." With that said, she turned and headed out of the Mess.

-----XXX-----

The next day, the topic had changed to the departure of the Athosians that morning. Bates, especially, seemed much more relaxed and even a little smug. Sierra felt like punching the little dweeb's face in every time she saw it.

An hour after the Athosians left, Teyla had come by and visited her, sitting on the edge of the bed for a good half hour but not saying anything. Sierra was pretty sure she was hurting, being separated from her people. She sat next to the Athosian, chatting to her about all the things she missed about home, and the first thing she would do when she got back. Most of it seemed to fly straight over the younger woman's head, but Sierra didn't mind. A bit of mindless conversation seemed to be just what Teyla needed.

After a while Teyla's curiosity seemed to get the better of her and she asked some questions here and there, before thanking Sierra and getting up to leave.

"I truly appreciate your friendship, Sierra," she had said softly before opening the door.

Sierra smiled. "Anytime. I know I can count on you for an ear to chew on." Teyla frowned, looking slightly alarmed. "It's just an expression," Sierra clarified. "It means 'someone to talk to'." Teyla nodded.

"My door is always open." And with that, she left.

Later that afternoon, as Sierra stood in the Gate Room next to her team, ready to embark with John and his team, she glanced across the space at Teyla. The warrior woman seemed to be holding up OK, and was trying to ignore McKay's explanation of how a Naquidah reactor worked. From the look on Teyla's face it seemed that she had asked a question she no longer wanted to know the answer to. Ford rolled his eyes and pulled a face at Sierra from the other side of McKay and she spared herself a smirk.

Beside her, Stackhouse and Markham were talking about that morning's departure in hushed tones. Sierra tried studiously to ignore them. On her other side, John was having a witty conversation with Elizabeth.

"Would you like us to bring back anything special?" he asked, almost flirtatiously. Sierra blinked at him. Damn Casanova.

"Uh, no thanks," Elizabeth replied, clearly trying to ignore John's charm.

"Groceries? New outfit? Flatware?"

Elizabeth was trying not to smile. "No – just yourselves in one piece, please." She ordered the 'gate be dialed and headed back towards the Command Centre. Sierra raised an eyebrow at John, silently asking what that had been about. He, in turn, ignored her. Well, OK then; it seemed that he was still crabby at her for what happened at dinner yesterday. Sierra shrugged as the wormhole engaged.

No matter how much she wanted to stick it to John right then, and march off ahead of him, she knew it wouldn't be right to undermine his superiority like that. They all depended on the structure of the military, the hierarchy of command, following orders. So Sierra waited for John to lead his team through the Stargate and then followed close behind him.

-----XXX-----

She was bored. They'd been babysitting the archeologists for over two hours now, and it was getting really old. Sierra was itching for a run (or a fight, particularly whenever she looked at John) and she could see that her team was thinking the same.

She had wanted to ask why it was necessary to have two teams accompany the research team offworld, but had held her tongue. This was John and Elizabeth's decision so she wasn't about to question it; especially not when John and his team seemed to have a very large target painted on their backs.

As much as she enjoyed the outdoors, sitting on her butt upon an uncomfortable rock, under the too-warm sun of an alien planet isn't exactly what she had planned for her afternoon. Cole came and sat on the rock next to her and handed her a fresh canteen.

"How much longer are we to sit here?" he asked in his upper-class British accent. Sierra shrugged.

"Until they find something," she replied, gesturing to the archeologist team. "Or 'til we get attacked. And Teyla and Ford should be back soon." Sierra sighed. "Personally, I would prefer some action. It'd make the day pass…" She trialed off when she saw a pale, grey shadow moving in the trees. Less than a second later John was shouting 'Wraith!' at the top of his lungs and ordering them to fall back to the 'gate.

Pushing Cole firmly in the chest, Sierra shoved him so that he tipped backwards over the rock, and was hidden behind it. She followed him a second later.

_Damn it, I fucking jinxed us_, she thought to herself. "Fall back!" she shouted to Cole as Wraith weapon fire flew over their heads.

Weaving in between boulders, ruins and weapons fire, Sierra covered Cole as they made a dash for the 'gate. And then she was fighting shoulder to shoulder with John.

"Man, you sure know how to throw a party!" she cried to him over the noise of P-90 machine gun fire.

"Just shut up and shoot!" John yelled back at her. Sierra, promptly put in her place, turned her attention back to the fight. She lined up a Wraith soldier that was heading straight toward them and fired off enough lead to make him sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Behind them, Dr. Corrigan, one of the leading anthropologists in the city, had dialed the 'gate and punched in his IDC. Sierra turned to make sure that he and the other scientists made it through OK. Just as she turned back to the fight, John straightened, motioning for her to fall back, and was struck by a Wraith stun blast.

"John!" Sierra cried as he fell. Swinging her P-90 around to the attacker, she squeezed the trigger and fired a dozen rounds into the Wraith soldier. He went down with a grunt.

"Stackhouse; Cole; cover us!" she barked and her teammates knelt down, taking out the approaching Wraith. "McKay; help me!" she bent and seized the front of John's vest and started to drag him backwards. "Fall back, everyone!" Now that her brother was currently out of action, Sierra had to take up the slack of ranking officer. They had to follow her now.

"What about Ford and Teyla?" McKay shouted over the din of weapon's fire. Of course, _he_ was the exception.

"Now, McKay! NOW!" And he followed then, without anymore objections.

It was strangely quiet and still in the Gate Room when they stepped back through, without the yelling of orders, advancing Wraith and gun fire. Of course, after the 'gate shut down, it wasn't quiet for long when McKay started arguing that they had to go back to save Teyla and Ford. But Sierra wasn't paying much attention; she was currently more concerned about her brother.

"Hey, you," she said, touching a finger to his neck to check his pulse. "You can wake up now: bad dream's over." His pulse was a little more sluggish than usual, but present. Sierra breathed. Soon the paramedics arrived and she was manhandled out of the way so they could get John to the Infirmary.

-----XXX-----

Half an hour later, Sierra was sitting by her brother's bedside, staring at the floor. Even though she knew that John was only stunned, Sierra couldn't help but worry about him waking up.

As she sat by his bed, still in full kit (Markham had managed to wrestle her P-90 from her grip somewhere between the Gate Room and the transporter), she couldn't help but think about the last proper conversation they'd had.

It was silly, she knew, but she couldn't help but think that those words could be the last they ever spoke; and they had been spoken in anger and frustration.

"Argh… 'Erra?"

Sierra's head shot up when she heard John's voice as he tentatively called to her. Bolting out of her chair, she came to his side and took hold of his hand.

"I'm here," she said softly, her voice shaking with relief. And once she started talking she couldn't shut her mouth. "Look, John; I'm sorry about yesterday. I was mad about Bates and his conspiracy theories, too. And I just – I don't know. I'm sorry. We shouldn't be arguing. But I–"

John slapped a hand over her mouth to quite her. "Stop," he said forcefully. "And be calm." A smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's nice to know you care."

Sierra gave him a small smile in return once he dropped his hand. "I really am sorry, John."

"Hey, forget it. I'm sorry, too. I should have taken it out on a punching bag, not you." John paused for a long moment. "You were right," he said finally. Sierra looked up at him, wondering if she'd heard him right. "Yeah, OK – I said it. You. Were. Right."

Sierra's smile widened and she sat on the side of his bed. "Sorry, I'm just reveling in the moment, here."

"Oh, shut up."

It was a little while longer before full feeling returned to John's limbs but he still had pins and needles all over. Once Carson had come over and told them that he was free to go back to work, Sierra helped him out of the scrubs and back into his uniform. The second he had his pants back on, John started worrying about Ford and Teyla.

"They're smart enough to take cover until we're able to go get them," Sierra said as she passed him his black t-shirt and jacket.

But John wasn't too convinced. Sierra could tell that he was still worrying about his missing teammates, even though he didn't show it. Together, they walked to the Control Room where Elizabeth had requested them to attend the debriefing. When they got there it wasn't much of a debriefing, more an interrogation from Bates. Stackhouse and McKay were debriefing the Head of Security and the Commander. Sierra felt a rush of concern for her teammate. Cole, who was the second in command and should have been there instead of Stackhouse, was absent.

"How did Teyla and Lieutenant Ford get separated from you?" Sierra heard Elizabeth ask as she and John ascended the stairs.

Stackhouse answered immediately. "They went to check out the area and try to make contact with some of the natives."

"And who's idea was that?" Bates demanded, as Sierra and John reached the top of the stairs.

"Mine," John said calmly, though Sierra knew there was a lot of concealed aggression in that one word. Bates, Stackhouse, Weir and McKay all looked over as the Sheppards came to stand with them. "She was following my orders," John finished.

John waved off Elizabeth's concerned glance, while Bates looked the major up and down. There was no concern in _his_ gaze.

"Why didn't you go with them, Major?" Elizabeth questioned as John sat in the nearest chair, wincing.

As John answered Elizabeth, Sierra watched Bates, who was watching John with ill-concealed distaste. To Sierra it was clear that Bates hadn't gotten over that first fateful mission that had ended with Sumner's death by John's hand. Of course Sierra was the only one who really knew how much that mission still affected John's dreams, but she wouldn't ever tell Bates that. She'd never give him the satisfaction.

Sierra was brought back to the conversation as McKay said loudly, "So was Ford; maybe it was him."

Bates ignored McKay. "I'm just stating a fact, Sir," he said still watching John.

At that moment, John stood and quickly walked towards Bates. Sierra's heart beat quickened and she quickly stepped in front of John, between the irate major and the arrogant sergeant. She was a head shorter than her brother, so he was able to look over her head a Bates, which wasn't exactly making matters better.

"Sergeant," John said coldly. "I am only going to say this once…"

"John," Sierra warned quietly, setting her hands on John's chest to keep him from advancing on Bates any further. Though she wasn't really sure why she was bothering. As it was, Bates had taken a step closer to them, so that he was almost touching her back.

"With all due respect, Major," Bates said just a coolly over the top of Sierra's head. "You can reprimand me if you wish, but it's been six times already your team's been compromised. Only one Athosian knew about this last mission."

Sierra felt her own anger bubbling in time with John's. Looking around her, she could see that everyone else thought that too. And now she'd had enough.

"You all believe that she's a spy for the Wraith, don't you?" No one looked at her. "Don't you?!" she shouted.

"You have to face the facts, Captain." Sierra turned to glare at Bates over her shoulder. "She's not who she says she is."

"And who _do_ you think she is?" Sierra shot back. "A person who cares deeply about her people? Or someone who is willing to fight and protect those she cares about?"

Bates was silent, but Sierra could see the unspoken answer in his eyes. _Depends on who her _real_ people are_. She clenched her fist, preparing deck him but John's hand fell on her wrist. Blood was boiling in her veins and she contemplated breaking out of John's hold and hitting the sergeant in the jaw anyways. John's other hand came around her shoulders, holding her fast.

At that moment, the silence was broken by the Stargate coming to life.

-----XXX-----

It was Teyla who came through the 'gate, dragging Ford's unconscious body behind her. There were no hordes of Wraith, as Bates had predicted, and no resistance from the Athosian as the marines arrested her and escorted her to the Brig. John, however, was murderous as he watched the Head of Security's back as he followed his prisoner. Sierra, a great deal calmer now that Teyla and Ford were back safe, touched her brother's shoulder and followed after them, making sure the peace was kept.

Before today, they'd never had the need to use the Brig, so Bates had called McKay down to figure out how to operate the cell. The marines stood guard while Teyla was stripped of her weapons and vest and moved to stand before the closed door of the cell in stoic silence. Sierra moved to stand beside the other woman in equal silence.

As McKay struggled with the controls to the cell under the watchful eye of Bates, Sierra was automatically devising an escape plan. She hoped they wouldn't need it, but her years in the Air Force had conditioned her mind to always be prepared for everything.

After ten minutes of silence form Teyla, Sierra decided to break the ice.

"I know that you're innocent," she said simply. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bates look over at them. "And I don't care what anyone else says."

Teyla raised her chin, still staring ahead of her. If Teyla had any shortcomings, it was that she was a rather proud person. Not stubborn or pig-headed like John and McKay, but she had a fierce integrity that didn't take challenge and accusation well. Sierra hoped that her declaration had given Teyla some indication that people still believed in her.

Another ten minutes passed in further silence. Finally, much to Bates' relief, McKay got the cell open. Sierra couldn't help but tense, her hand inching towards her sidearm.

"Do not," Teyla said suddenly as she stepped into the cell. "I believe I know what you are thinking and I ask you; please, do not."

Sierra was surprised for a moment, amazed that Teyla had known she was itching to spring her escape plan, and the other woman's words stopped her. But Teyla was her friend and Sierra hated to watch the door of the cell shut again, the force shield shimmering across it.

Sighing, Sierra threw a scathing look at Bates before saying, "We'll get this all cleared up, Teyla; don't worry."

Teyla smiled slightly and nodded infinitesimally. "Thank you, Sierra."

Sierra nodded back and left the Brig to find her team. She hoped all this wouldn't last too long.

She found them in the gym, huddled in the corner and talking in hushed voices. She knew Stackhouse and Markham were tapped into the rumor mill at its source and were no doubt discussing with Cole the latest scandal: Teyla's current residence.

Clearing her throat, she called their attention to her presence by the doorway. All three of them looked up at her like they'd been caught smoking behind the washrooms.

Sierra raised her eyebrow. "Anything _I_ should know about?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Cole, Stackhouse and Markham stepped away from each other, coming to attention as she walked towards them. Stopping a few feet from her team, Sierra fixed each of them with a hard look.

"Well?" she said, her hands on her hips, tapping her foot expectantly.

Stackhouse glanced between his teammates before answering. "I was filling Markham and Lieutenant Cole in on what happened in the Gate Room."

"Is it true, ma'am?" Markham asked.

"Is what true?" Sierra demanded, her tone a little too harsh.

"That Teyla Emmagan has been arrested because she's a spy for the Wraith?" Cole finished, almost eager in his curiosity.

Sierra stiffened. "Yes and no," she answered. Whether or not they were the fuel of the gossip grapevine, they still deserved to get the facts right, "Yes, Bates has arrested her and locked her in the Brig; and no, she is _not_ a Wraith spy."

"Then why did Bates arrest her, ma'am?" Markham asked, frowning.

"Because he's paranoid," Sierra burst out with frustration. "He's just seeing shadows in the corners because it's the easy answer."

Cole, the brave (and slightly stupid) man that he was, took a step towards her, reaching to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He froze when Sierra's icy gaze flicked to him.

"And where the Hell were _you_?" she demanded, her temper getting the better of her. "Where were you when Stackhouse was debriefing with Weir and Bates?"

Cole dropped his eyes to the floor, letting his hand fall to his side. He hesitated, not answering.

"You better have a fucking good excuse, lieutenant," Sierra threatened, "Especially when _you _were supposed to be there instead."

Cole snapped to attention again, his mouth opening to speak, but seemed to rethink his words. "I don't have an excuse, ma'am," he mumbled.

"I don't care what you were doing, Cole, but when you are on duty, you do your _goddamned_ duty. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said louder, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Good. Dismissed." The three of them snapped to attention before scurrying out of the gym. Sighing, Sierra moved over to lean against the wall. This was all getting to be too much. Glancing out of the stained glass windows, she noted that the sun was dipping rather low over the ocean. Sierra idly wondered how the Athosians were doing on the Mainland.

"_Captain Sheppard?_" came Grodan's voice on her radio, making her start back to awareness.

"Yeah?"

"_Doctor Weir, Major Sheppard and Sergeant Bates are waiting for you in the Briefing Room._"

Sierra sighed again. "Thanks, Grodan. I'll be there in a minute." Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said to the empty room, "What a mess." Glancing about her she tried to remember the day when she and John had wrestled together just feet from where she stood. Only a few details had stayed with her.

Heading back into the hall, Sierra took the transporter back up to the Briefing Room. When she got there, an argument was in full swing.

Stopping at the door, she saw John and Bates on either side of the small briefing table, John standing while Bates sat, with Elizabeth sitting between them, resting her head on one hand and her eyes darting between the major and the sergeant.

"It's my job to express security concerns, sir," Bates was saying while John was clearly angry. Her brother had his back to her, and Sierra could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands were tense where they rested on his hips.

"I've heard enough of your concerns," John said bitterly, a warning in his tone.

But bates didn't seem to hear it and pushed on. "Again, with all due respect, Major, I believe you're putting your personal feelings in front of your–"

"You're dismissed," John said, cutting across the sergeant. Sierra winced at the venom that was behind those two words. They glared at each other for a moment, two pig-headed, testosterone-fueled men both thinking they were right in every way. Sierra could practically feel the sparks flying around them in the small room.

Whatever Bates had been going to do, he seemed to think better of it and stood stiffly. "Yes, Sir," he bit out curtly before snapping a salute, gathering his files and leaving the room.

John paced the room for a few moments and Sierra considered making her presence known. She could see the stiffness in his back and knew that any further aggravation would cause him to blow up like he had the day before. John noticed Elizabeth staring at him from her seat at the table.

"What?" he said, pausing in his pacing.

"I'm the one who put him in charge of security," the diplomat said matter-of-factly.

John turned to face her. "Yes, you did; and if you wanna dismiss me, go ahead."

Elizabeth was pensive for a moment. Looking John in the eye, she said, "Why don't you go see how Lieutenant Ford is doing?"

From Sierra's position in the doorway, she couldn't see his face, but she could see the surprise in his stance. She could tell that John hadn't expected Elizabeth to actually dismiss him. She saw him sigh through his nose before walking past Elizabeth and the briefing table, and out the door Bates had left through.

Sierra stepped into the room as Elizabeth set her head on her hand and glanced over at her. "Welcome to my life," Sierra said softly, taking the chair on Elizabeth's right.

"I thought I was going to have to get a hose for a moment," said the diplomat, dragging a hand though her hair. Sierra allowed herself a small smile.

"Yeah, John tends to get that way when someone questions his judgment," Sierra said. Bates had been lucky just to get reprimanded. Others had fared far worse, mostly due to John's potentially short fuse.

Elizabeth shook her head, looking slightly lost. "What do I do here, Sierra?" she asked. "Who do I trust; my Military Commander or my Head of Security?"

Sierra was slightly surprised by this moment of weakness that Elizabeth was showing. It wasn't normal practice for the expedition commander to show this kind of indecision. Sierra also knew that Elizabeth was already loosing sleep in this job. She sighed.

"Well," she started. "I, personally, am more inclined to trust John's judgment; only because I know him better." She looked Elizabeth in the eye. "But I'm not the commander of this base. I think you're gonna have to go with your gut on this one."

Elizabeth looked down at the table, seeming to think over Sierra's words. "I don't know what to think," she admitted. "I almost want Bates to be right, because that seems to be the easy option. I almost want it to be Teyla…" She paused to look up at Sierra with conflicted eyes. "Because the alternative is much worse."

Sierra shivered at her words. "Like it could be one of _us_." Elizabeth nodded.

Sierra knew with all her heart that it wasn't Teyla, but it was a sickening thought thinking that it was someone from Earth. No one wanted to think that. Especially not when Elizabeth picked most of them herself. Sierra tried to think of what must be going through Elizabeth's mind.

She straightened as the other woman stood and turned to leave. Sierra opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but nothing would come out. She clenched her teeth together as the door slid closed.

-----XXX-----

Sierra took a late dinner down to Teyla that night, mostly to soften the blow of the news that Bates had been through her things. The warrior woman didn't seem too phased and the two of them ate in silence. At about 21:00, just as Sierra was clearing everything away to take back to the Mess Hall, a call came down to the guards on duty. Sierra cautiously watched them as one came over and unlocked the door of the cell and stood aside.

Sierra moved to stand in front of him, 'Hooper' his name badge read, and raised an eyebrow.

"Major Sheppard has ordered the release of the prisoner," Hooper said monotone. At that moment Bates entered the Brig. He had something in his hand.

"That is mine," Teyla said coming to stand in the doorway of the cell, but not crossing the threshold.

He held Teyla's necklace by its links. "It's a transmitter," he said. "Major Sheppard claims that your father gave it to you when you were a kid."

Teyla inclined her head slightly. "That is true," she said, eyeing the pendant.

Bates growled very softly, almost too low for them to hear. "It was activated by Major Sheppard touching it when he found it. It's been dormant for years, McKay reckons."

"I see. Thank you, Sergeant Bates, for telling me." Without another word, she strode past him and headed out of the Brig. Sierra crossed her arms and looked at Bates.

He seemed a little smaller and deflated than he had been a few hours ago, and glanced sidelong at Sierra but didn't say anything. She hoped that he was properly chastised. Holding her hand out for Teyla's necklace, she practically snatched it from him as soon as he held it out to her. She pushed past him on her way out, glad that she was the one feeling smug this time.

She met John and his team in McKay's lab, where Ford was going through a plan of attack and explaining about the explosives in front of him that were his specialty. The plan was to capture a Wraith for questioning using the transmitter as a lure to get them there. Sierra went to bed that night satisfied that their plan would work and that it had been a _very _interesting and intriguing day. They'd had the Athosians leaving that morning, getting shot at around lunch time and a solved mystery by nightfall. All in all, she was exhausted. Hopefully tomorrow wouldn't bee quite as exciting, mission exempted of course.

-----XXX-----

The mission had gone without too many hitches, at least as much of it as Sierra could remember; she ended up taking a stun blast between the shoulders just after the first charges blew (lucky shot from a Wraith soldier), and dropped like a rock. The next thing she knew, she was waking up, staring at the Infirmary ceiling with Markham and Stackhouse leaning over her and smirking as the first words out of her mouth were, "Ah, crap – I missed it!"

Carson had released her as soon as she was able to stand, primarily because he was tired of her complaining at missing the first major showdown they'd had with the Wraith. At the Scotsman's request, John had collected her and proceeded to take her to the Brig to showcase his trophy, whom he had named Steve.

Sierra had to admit that being that close to a Wraith was rather unsettling and she ended up waking up in the middle of the night a couple times, worrying that it was going to escape and kill them all. But Sierra had full confidence in the marines on guard and once she remembered that, she slept soundly.

And so, with everything back to the way things were, it was business as usual. The next mission that Sierra and her team had been given was to find a deer or a sheep or a cow (or the Pegasus Galaxy equivalent) for John's 'pet' to feed on. There was no way in Hell that Weir or John would ever consider feeding a person to the Wraith, even an enemy. Sierra made the mistake of jokingly offering Bates as a snack, and her brother had glared at her so fiercely that she had backpedaled immediately. Apparently spending all that time with the Wraith was making John a little sensitive to jokes of that sort.

Sierra and her team eventually happened across a suitable beast to feed to the Wraith, but were discouraged when it refused to eat the offering.

"Now, that's just rude," Sierra burst out, covered in dirt, grass and animal blood, while Cole stood beside her, holding a field bandage to a gash in his shoulder. Markham and Stackhouse had fared a little worse and were both in the Infirmary sporting a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle, respectively.

The animal they had captured was the Pegasus version of a wild boar and had just bludgeoned itself to a bloody death by ramming repeatedly at the walls of the cell for over half an hour. The Wraith, on the other hand, had flipped the metal framed bed they had provided it with and created a safe barrier for him to sit behind while he obsessively watched the blood dripping down Cole's arm.

Sighing at the fleshy mess that was once an animal, Sierra led Cole out of the Brig to the Infirmary, slightly unnerved by the Wraith's fixated stare at her teammate. Sparing one last glance at the massively tusked animal that Stackhouse had affectionately named Boris, Sierra wished that it was edible; Teyla had informed them that the blood from this particular animal was very acidic and the meat was poisonous to humans. Was it too much to ask for a normal spit of pork?

Two days after that mission, Sierra was called to supervise the official, formal apology delivered by Sergeant Bates to Teyla Emmagan and, by proxy, the Athosians.

Sierra had tried not to enjoy the fact that Bates had been wrong and had to apologise to a rather intimidating Teyla (who could so easily have kicked his ass). At least, Sierra tried her best _not_ to enjoy it. Bates seemed to have taken the proof of Teyla's innocence in his stride; however he did have a rather scathing look in his eyes as he left the room. He didn't seem to be able to let it go and Sierra wondered briefly if he was channeling Colonel Sumner's spirit.

After Bates had left, Teyla asked if Sierra would kindly ferry her over to the Mainland to see her people. Sierra, who wholly loved flying the jumpers, agreed; she also wanted to see how the Athosians were doing, and she missed Jinto a little.

A few hours later, in the Jumper bay, Sierra looked up from her pre-flight check as Teyla entered the cockpit of the jumper.

"You all ready to go?" Sierra asked cheerfully once the Athosian had stashed her bag behind the passenger seat.

"I am indeed," she replied enthusiastically (well, enthusiastic for Teyla). Sierra smiled.

"Anxious to see your people again?" she asked. Teyla took her seat as Sierra guided the jumper up through the 'sunroof'. The crystal-blue sky was picturesque.

Teyla smiled a little. "Perhaps," she admitted. "Halling says the last of the crops are ready to plant. In five moons we shall be feasting on tuttleroot soup and baywood beans at the First Harvest Feast."

"Excellent," Sierra replied. "Sounds like a good time."

Teyla shrugged. "I have attended many. It is a time when our people thank the Ancestors for bestowing upon us their bounty. It is also a time to share a drink or two with a friend."

"Can't wait." They sat in comfortable silence for most of the flight to the Mainland, the only sounds the gentle humming of the Jumper's systems. The land mass had just appeared over the horizon when Teyla spoke up again.

"I must thank you again, Sierra," she said softly. "For believing in me when Sergeant Bates was accusing me of conspiring with the Wraith."

"Ah, forget it," Sierra replied, a little awkwardly. "I wasn't the only one, anyways. And after some of the stories you and Halling told me about the Wraith, and how they've tormented the people of this galaxy, I didn't think that anyone could ever work with the Wraith."

Teyla's expression became dark. "That is not so," she said. "There are stories of others coming across humans who worship the Wraith; who do their every bidding in return for the rewards from their Masters." She turned and looked out the front view screen again. "Though I do not wish to dwell on what those rewards might be."

In spite of the warm atmosphere in the Jumper, Sierra shivered. The fact that humans worshipped the Wraith was a disturbing and worrying fact (and the _why_ evaded her right now) and Sierra knew that she was going to have nightmares about this later.

"Do Doctor Weir and Major Sheppard know about this?" she asked, her voice an octave higher than it should have been.

Teyla looked over at her. She paused for a moment. "No, I believe they do not. But, yes; it is something they should be aware of. I shall speak with them once we return to the city."

Sierra nodded absently. Her mind was filled with images of humans kneeling before a Wraith before offering themselves as a sacrifice. She shook the images from her head as they approached the landing area.

Jinto and Halling were there to greet them as soon as the hatch lowered and Sierra was almost bowled over as the twelve-year-old boy hurtled into her to hug her around the waist. Once she regained her breath, she greeted both Jinto and his father, before presenting Halling with a crate of medical supplies that Carson had been able to spare.

Sierra and Teyla were swept into the encampment with both happy smiles and cautious stares. Before they were invited to dinner, Teyla insisted on explaining to her people everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. By the end of it there were a lot less distrusting looks shot in Sierra's direction and the atmosphere was far more relaxed.

By the time Teyla's story was finished, Sierra was famished and they invited her to their table with open arms. The meal was good, and Teyla introduced her to Charin, Teyla's mentor and grandmother figure. Charin was the oldest living Athosian; by Sierra's estimate, she had to be in her eighties. She was a sweet and kindly woman who had many stories to tell of the legends of the Ancestors and of the Athosian people. But there was also sadness in her. She told Sierra that her husband and both her children had been taken during separate cullings years past. Somehow the elder woman seemed to sense in Sierra that she had experienced a similar happening. All she could do was nod when Charin mentioned it.

The Elder nodded. "Yes, it is a pain that is not easily erased. All we can do is live for those we loose." And then she gave her a knowing smile.

Sierra couldn't help but smile back and accept another helping of tuttleroot soup that Charin passed to her. The soup was delicious and no doubt made with love and kindness that Charin exuded from her being. The children danced around her feet holding up their bowls for more soup and Charin ladled it out to them with warm, motherly smiles.

After the feast, Teyla and Sierra shared Charin's tent, sleeping on bedrolls on the floor while the Elder slept in a bed made of blankets and firs. But Sierra definitely wasn't complaining – she could sleep anywhere.

The next morning dawned bright and Sierra insisted on helping the Athosians plant the last of the fields of tuttleroot seeds and baywood bean saplings. It seemed like the whole village was out helping and Sierra worked side by side with Jinto while he chatted to her endlessly, asking a hundred and one questions about the places she'd been, the planet she came from and all the people she knew. If Sierra ever got tired of all the boy's questions she never showed it, mostly because she was sure that if Keenan, her son, had lived, he would be just like Jinto.

By nightfall they had all the fields planted and sat down to another delicious feast of roast hibbon meat, an animal that, in Sierra's mind, looked like a sheep with a goat's ears, but tasted like pork. That night she lay in Charin's tent again after listening to more of her stories for an hour, and was asleep almost immediately. Sierra had never been a religious person, but just before she fell asleep, she thanked any god that was listening for everything she had, from her pocket knife to her friends, including the ones she had made today, to all the stars in the universe that she was going to explore.

-----XXX-----

A/N: please let me know what you think. And next chapter will be a bridge between this episode and _The Storm_. I'm not going to be rewriting every episode – that would be EPIC! Please stay tuned for more.


	12. Transitions, Pt I Childhoods End

Hi all, this is just a quick update and I know this chapter is a lot shorter than most, but there'll be a few of these before I get to the main event. With the next few episodes of the show mostly Team Sheppard centric I couldn't put Sierra in the mix easily. So this chapter is on another of Sierra and her team's missions. All these bridging chapters will be called "Transition" chapters. Please keep an eye out for the next chapter soon.

Mail Bag:

To **jasminesmommy**, I wish someone had decked him too, but at least Teyla does in _The Siege_. I am thinking of having another altercation with Sierra and Bates somewhere down the track because I can so see those two butting heads way too often. And thanks for correcting me on the name of the first Wraith. I've fixed it up, cheers!

To **BlueDragon007**, thanks; its good to hear that people are still enjoying this story. And please let me know if I'm prattling on too much. Thank you so much :)

To **PyroDragon2006**, thanks very much for your insight. I do realize that it would never happen that way in real life, but as you said, the SGC and Atlantis have been pretty lax on those kind of regs. And I always imagined the Sheppards as being ones to break those regs (as John Sheppard has already shown us). And I'm glad that the twins relationship is working. I wasn't sure I got it right, but I'm glad you're enjoying it. Cheers.

To **Shilhi**, thanks very much for your review. I'm glad you're enjoying this!

**-----Chapter 12 – Transitions Part 1 – Childhood's End-----**

M8K-434 was turning out to be a rather seedy planet for Sierra's team's recon mission. It was one of the few inhabited planets that they had come across, though the locals were turning out to be… cautious of strangers. The group from the village, that was a fifteen minute walk from the 'gate, who met them when they arrived were tough, armed and hostile.

Sierra, using her Sheppard charms, had managed to bargain one night's stay out of the village's mayor, and they were currently sitting in the local pub over a meal. The local patrons kept their distance from the visitors, watching them with a stony silence broken occasionally by a hushed conversation. Sierra was sure she spied the barkeeper repeatedly putting his hand on something under the bar.

"This is creepy, Ma'am," Stackhouse whispered to her, over the rim of his ale mug. Sierra's eyes refused to rest on one single subject and kept darting around the room.

"I know what you mean," she hissed back.

"Any idea why they are so jittery about strangers?" Markham asked as he picked at the crust of his bread roll.

Sierra pursed her lips and shook her head. "Nope. It could be that they've had bad experiences in the past with people coming through the 'gate. Or it could have something to do with the Wraith terrorizing them."

"If that were the case, though," Cole spoke up, leaning forwards, "then why is the village so close to the 'gate? You would think that they'd move somewhere more secluded."

Sierra shrugged. "Maybe they haven't been Culled in a long time and they've become complacent." Though by the looks of them she wasn't sure that was the case. "Or maybe the Wraith aren't their main problem. Perhaps there's some thing else going on." She bit her lip for a moment. "In any case, I don't reckon they'll be all that receptive to an alliance."

Her teammates nodded in agreement. They ate their meal in an attentive silence, eyes darting everywhere, muscles tensed and ready for anything.

Markham, who had just drained his tankard of water (they had refused the local ale as there was no telling what it was made of, and that they were technically 'on duty'), needed to use the bathroom. Standing and pushing his chair back, he inadvertently bumped a passing patron, causing the man to drop his fifth mug of ale.

A deathly silence fell over the bar, all eyes falling to Markham's frozen figure and the man and the clay mug as it rolled under a table. The man was a good foot taller than Markham, and built like a battleship. His muscles mixed with body fat gave him a very dangerous bulk that was worthy of any biker-gang member. Light stubble covered his chin while his shaven scalp gleamed in the primitive lantern lighting of the bar. His clothes were covered in dark stains, and his mole skin vest was worn and threadbare in several places. There was a knife on his belt and a short sword on his hip. Sierra's hand drifted to the berretta on her thigh while she stood as well.

"I – I'm sorry, Sir," Markham stuttered, moving away from the man, who looked like he was about to kill someone. "I didn't see you there. I'm sorry."

Sierra came to stand just behind Markham as the man turned to give him a scathing look. His face was round with small, piggy eyes that were the colour of coal in the dimly lit bar. The nostrils of his flat, wide nose flared and he took a step toward him.

"You a clumsy one, ain't you, boy," he growled. "Tha' was a fresh tankard, too – I says you owe me _two _drinks for 'at 'un now." The man reached out a meaty hand and grabbed Markham by the collar, practically yanking him off his feet. "You agree, _boy_?"

Sierra could see that her teammate was terrified. She doubted that the kid had ever been in a bar fight before.

"Take your hands off my friend," she said in her most commanding and threatening tone. "Now." Sierra, however, had seen her fair share of pub brawls. Also, she'd seen a fair few Clint Eastwood movies with her father.

The man looked over at her, blinking in surprise at her presence. Then he snorted. "You gonna make me, sweet'art?" he said, a fiendish smirk coming to his ugly face. He looked her up and down. "I'll let 'im go, darlin', if you does _me _a little favor." From the other side of the bar, a group of men of similar stock to Ugly gave a loud snicker, and Sierra had no doubt as to what that _favor _would entail.

From the corner of her eye she saw Stackhouse and Cole stand as well and move to flank her; Stackhouse to her left and Cole, the taller of the two, close to Ugly's right hand that held Markham. The young sergeant's eyes were wide and fixated on his captor.

"Oh, I see 'ow it is," Ugly said. He jerked his head to Cole and Stackhouse. "You lot take turns do ye? She must be pretty damn fine to keep you fellas about." Sierra saw her teammate's hands inch towards their weapons. Even Markham scowled at him. "How 'bout I take 'er off ye hands, lads?" Ugly's smile grew and he chuckled as his friends began to howl with laughter behind them.

Sierra's hand tightened on her 9mm and over the man's shoulder she saw Cole lift his arm and shape it to karate-chop his neck.

"No!" she cried out just as the lieutenant struck the unsuspecting patron in his neck, forcing him to the floor. Markham was released from his grip and he staggered back as Ugly hit the floor with a thud. The next thing they knew, every man in the bar stood and drew knifes from various places on their persons. Ugly's friends in the corner had gone silent and were menacingly moving towards Sierra and her teammates.

Sierra whipped her hand away from her sidearm and grabbed her P-90 from where it lay on the table and aimed it at the nearest patron. Cole and Stackhouse followed her example, while Markham whipped out his 9mm, as he had left his bigger gun on the table when he had needed to use the bathroom. The four of them tightened the ranks to cover each other as they stood at a stale mate in the middle of hostile territory. Sierra's eyes flicked to the door.

"We don't want any trouble," she said slowly and loudly, glancing around the bar. "We will leave now, if you let us. Please." She wondered briefly if it was really necessary to be polite to these people, when all they had done to them was be ignorant and unfriendly to them from the second they arrived.

Stepping over the man on the floor, Sierra closed ranks with her team. "Easy, guys," she said softly to them. "Just move slowly. It's OK." Keeping their guns trained on the patrons, they began to move as one to the door. None of them saw the guy on the floor move until it was too late.

Ugly, moving faster than anyone his size should, rolled onto his back and whipped the knife from his belt. With the force of a moving car, he sat up and thrust the knife into the closest of the visitors: Sierra.

The knife, about four inches long, slid into Sierra's abdomen with the ease of a well-sharpened blade. She gasped in shock, the pain so unbelievably excruciating that the air was driven from her lungs.

"Bitch," the man hissed at her. Stackhouse, seeing the whole thing unfold, turned his weapon on Ugly and shot a single round into his chest. The force of the bullet made the man fly backwards, ripping the knife from Sierra's gut as he did. His body hit the ground with another heavy thud. He was dead.

Pain ripped through her body and she screamed in agony. Her P-90 fell from her grasp, but she felt Markham scoop it up as he caught her as she collapsed to the dirty floor of the bar.

Around her she was aware of shouting and another few shots fired, before all fell silent again. Amidst the cries of pain from some of the patrons she heard Cole speak.

"Back off, everyone! Now! We're going to leave, OK? Just let us pass and we will leave and not come back, alright? No one else needs to die tonight! Just let us pass!" There was angry murmuring from the patrons as Sierra felt Markham sling her arm over his shoulder and drag her across the floor. Fire raced up and down her side with every step and she tried not to cry out every time.

Soon, they reached the door and passed through without incident. The night was cold and Sierra shivered. Passing through the town was as unsettling as passing through the bar; everywhere eyes followed them, hostile and unfriendly. Behind them several patrons of the bar followed them, no doubt making sure they left and probably waiting for one of them to drop their guard enough to take a stab at them. However, they didn't pass the edge of the village and shouted and jeered at them as they made their way back in the direction of the 'gate.

Once they were out of sight of the village, they stopped and Markham lay Sierra down on a patch of grass beside the road. Using the torches, Cole dug out the medical kit and assessed Sierra's wound. She cried out as his fingers felt along her side.

"Who fired the shots?" Sierra demanded in between gasps of air.

"Stackhouse fired the kill shot," Cole answered, sounding a little impressed despite himself. Sierra knew that Cole had some kind of gripe with Stackhouse ever since the sergeant had compared him to David Hasselhoff. "I fired two. But only into shoulders and calves; and Markham fired one into the ceiling," he added reassuringly as he rooted through the medical kit.

Sierra nodded. "Stackhouse? Where's Stackhouse?"

The sergeant appeared next to her. He looked stressed and about to be sick. "Here, Ma'am."

"I know you've shot someone before," she said, hissing in pain, "but that was the first man you've killed. I wish I could say that it'll be the last, but I doubt it. No matter what _anyone_ tells you it was in the defense of a fellow soldier, a teammate. OK?"

Stackhouse nodded, not looking any less stricken. "Yes, Ma'am." Sierra nodded back.

After that, everything started going hazy as her adrenaline kick fizzled out. She knew she was loosing a lot of blood. Her hand found Stackhouse's and she clung to it, while the other became bunched in the front of Cole's jacket. Markham had folded up a spare jacket from someone's pack and tucked it under her head while mumbling assurances to her. His words faded in and out of focus.

Blood flowed from the wound, numbing her to everything and making her eyelids heavy. Her team was shouting at her to stay with them, to keep her focus and she tried, she really tried, but her eyes just wouldn't stay open.

Pain laced through her side as Cole pressed a field bandage to her side. She then had no trouble staying awake as Cole tied it around her waist, agony flaring at the lightest pressure.

Then Cole picked her up and carried her, while the sergeants led the way down the road back to the Stargate. Every jostle caused flaring pain to her whole being and she groaned with every step. It was very hard not to. She was sure she passed out at some stage, because the next thing she saw was the kawoosh of the 'gate opening and heard Stackhouse reporting a medical emergency.

The Gate Room was mercifully warmer than the cold night of M8K-434. She was set down on a gurney and wheeled to the Infirmary. Cole jogged to keep up with the gurney, and she heard the footfalls of her other teammates immediately behind them. She must have passed out again, because the next thing she knew, Carson was leaning over her dressed in powder blue scrubs, mask and hat while a nurse slid rubber gloves onto his hands.

"Don't worry, Captain," he said to her. "You're gonna be just fine."

An anesthesia mask was placed over her face and the nurse encouraged her to breath deep. Mercifully, she slid into darkness.

-----XXX-----

The gentle beeping of machines and hushed conversations were what woke her. Warm fuzziness flowed through her veins and she thanked the lords for morphine. Groaning and opening her eyes, she saw that it was dark in the Infirmary.

The conversations around her ceased and someone tentatively stepped up to her cot. Sierra had to blink her eyes a few times to focus on the figure and saw the blond halo of Cole's hair.

"Evening, Captain," he said softly as Markham and Stackhouse appeared on her other side. "How do you feel?"

Sierra closed her eyes for a moment and assessed herself. All she could feel was pain-free bliss.

Smiling lopsidedly she said, "I'll be good as long as the morphine lasts." Her teammates smiled back at her while Stackhouse disappeared for a moment.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

Markham shrugged. "Not long," he said. "The rest of the day." The mission had been an early start, leaving at 04:00 to catch whatever light was left on M8K-434. Judging from the darkness of the Infirmary, Sierra guessed it was around 21:00. That meant her brother would be back from his mission soon.

And almost as though she'd wished him into existence, John came bustling around the privacy curtain that had been drawn. Cole stepped aside so he could come to stand next to her, near her head. He touched a hand to her hair, concern etched in deep lines on his face. He was babbling before he even knew it.

"I just got in," he was saying. "Elizabeth said that you were in the Infirmary but I didn't know what happened. I ran into Stackhouse on the way in – he said you got stabbed in a bar fight! I can't believe you got into _another_ pub brawl! I thought you'd learnt your lesson last time." His concerned gaze had turned into one of frustration.

Sierra frowned at him, fully aware that her teammates' ears were pricked. "Hey," she said back indigently. "I didn't start this one! And I didn't start that last one. If you remember, I was trying to keep _your_ ass from being beaten to a pulp."

"You ended up in the hospital for four days!" he said his voice raising two octaves. "I'd say _you_ were the one beaten to a pulp." He stood back and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. "This time you get stabbed." He snorted unattractively. "And you think _I'm _the one who attracts trouble."

Sierra huffed, balling her fists in the sheets. Muttering incoherently she turned to face away from John, who did the same, seeing how she was sulking. She didn't think he was right (even though he partly was); she just thought it was pointless to argue with him any further. That and the fact that the morphine had begun to wear off and her side hurt like hell.

At that moment, Carson burst through the curtain, followed by a sheepish Stackhouse, and fixed the Sheppard twins with a death glare.

"What the bloody hell do ye think you two are doin'?" he practically yelled. Sierra and John both turned toward him, surprised at the volume Carson was using – he never yelled. "You–" he stabbed a finger at John, "aren't helpin' her recovery one bit. And you–" he turned his finger on Sierra, "should be gettin' your rest or I'll be puttin' you in Isolation 'til I deem you fit for duty!" He then threw his hands in the air, and started waving them about like he was shooing pigeons. "Off with you, all of ye! Now! Get!"

They got. John looked at his feet guiltily, and tucked his hands inside the arm-holes of his Kevlar vest. He cast one more chiding look in her direction, which turned apologetic as soon as he took in the sheen of perspiration on her face that had appeared in the last minute. Markham and Stackhouse were both hiding grins and trying to look concerned at the same time, while Cole's eyebrows seemed to fluctuate between scowling and distress.

Beckett had begun to give her another dose of morphine, and all of a sudden their expressions became the most amusing thing. Sierra burst out laughing at their retreating backs, only to be rewarded with confused stares and agonizing pain in her side. Between gasps of pain and hiccups of laughter, she somehow managed to wave them all off and lay back on the bed.

Carson stood over her with an exasperated expression as her laughing fit died down. She bit her lip against the giggles still bubbling at the surface.

"Sorry, Carson," she said as apologetically as she could manage. The doctor sighed.

"I may have given you a wee bit too much." He sighed. "Just promise me you'll try and get some sleep?"

"Aye aye, Doc!" Sierra said with a salute and way too much enthusiasm. Carson rolled his eyes and left as the giggling started up again.

-----XXX-----

Eventually the morphine high wore off and Sierra was able to sleep again. The next time she woke up she heard the gentle breathing of someone asleep. Rolling her head toward the sound, she saw that John had returned (no doubt having snuck back in) and had fallen asleep with his head on the side of her cot. The rest of his body sat in the chair next to her bed, his head resting on his arms. His mouth was open slightly and he was drooling on his watch.

Sierra smiled. Any frustrations she had against her brother from earlier quickly evaporated as she gently reached over and prodded his shoulder.

After a little encouragement, John's head shot up like a kid who'd been caught sleeping in class. He looked around him for a moment and then looked at her sheepishly.

"Hey, 'Erra," he said softly. A guilty look came into his eyes. "How're you feeling?"

Sierra shrugged. "Not too bad," she replied. "A lot better than before. You should be in bed."

It was John's turn to shrug as he sat back in the chair, shifting it to face her. "Couldn't sleep," he said simply.

Sierra gave him a concerned look. She had a feeling that would have been the case. Sierra was the only one who knew that John had nightmares almost every night.

They chatted for a little while in hushed voices so as not to disturb the other patients in the Infirmary. Then the topic came to John's last mission.

"Those kids," he said, shaking his head slightly. "They grew up always knowing that they were gonna die before they reach twenty-five. And they were glad to do it, too, because they never knew any better."

"But now that you've extended the field," Sierra said reassuringly, "They'll be able to live their lives out properly."

John nodded. "Those kids are gonna be in for a big surprise – grey hairs, losing hairs, _facial_ hairs. Then there's wrinkles, menopause, mid-life crisis, saggage–"

He cut off as Sierra burst into muffled laughter. John, seemed to backpedal over what he had last said and ducked his head in embarrassment, before laughing quietly with her.

Finally their laughter died down and Sierra fell back against the pillow gasping and clutching her side. "You OK?" John asked her.

She nodded and eased herself back up the bed head again. John told her about Keras, the "Elder" of the village and how he was preparing himself for his sacrificial suicide when they'd arrived. He also told her about the "villagers" that Rodney made cry, and about how they all saved the day. Once he had finished his story he yawned, trying to conceal it and failing miserably.

Sierra nudge him toward the Infirmary door. "Go to bed, John," she scolded. "You won't be able to function tomorrow otherwise." She knew first hand how dysfunctional Sheppards were in the mornings.

He half shrugged as he put his hand to his mouth to stifle another yawn, and then nodded. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "You win."

Sierra smiled back at him brightly. As he started to stand, the curtain opened and Cole backed into the small space carrying a tray piled high with food and drink. The lieutenant froze when he saw John standing in front of Sierra defensively.

She shot her brother a disapproving look and slapped his arm. "John, go to bed for Christ's sake," she said. "You're jumping at shadows."

John frowned back at her and then bent to kiss her head. He then left, brushing past Cole without a word.

Cold stood awkwardly at the foot of Sierra's bed, like he wasn't sure if he should be here or not. Sierra raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that for me?" she asked. "Or just for show?"

Cole shook off his awkwardness and proceeded further into the space. He smiled at her, helping her organize the tray table over the bed and placed the tray in front of her.

Sierra pounced on it, suddenly hungry and started devouring the pasta cacciatore that had no doubt been served it the Mess for dinner that night. Cole waited patiently in the chair with an amused smile on his face while Sierra finished her meal. She hiccupped as she pushed the tray table away.

"Ugh, thank you," she said, taking a large swig of water from the glass Cole had brought with the meal. "Wow – I really needed that. Cheers Cole."

He nodded at her. "You are most welcome. I remember Markham and Stackhouse complaining about the food last time they were in here, so I figured you might appreciate that." Sierra smiled her thanks at him. "And my body clock has been reconfigured so I was going to head to the gym for a couple of hours, see if I could reset it with fatigue. But that didn't work."

Sierra laughed lightly. "That sounded like it was a good idea," she said. "I'm envious of Stackhouse and Markham, though. Those two have no trouble with that at all."

"Oh, to by young again, huh?"

She laughed again. "Yeah, something like that."

Cole jerked his head toward the door of the Infirmary. "The major having the same problem?" he asked.

Sierra made a face. "Nah, he just worries unnecessarily."

Cole cocked a rather thick, blonde eyebrow at her. "Not unnecessarily," he corrected. "We were all worried about you."

"It _is_ unnecessary. I was always gonna be fine," she argued.

The lieutenant shook his head. "You didn't see it from our perspective, Ma'am," he said. "It was down-right scary seeing you so pale and bleeding so much. We all thought you were going to die." Cole's cobalt blue eyes were slightly glassy as he remembered the mission. His eyebrows were creased together in worry, and Sierra couldn't help but think that his face was familiar in some way, like he looked like someone else for a moment.

The moment passed as Cole shook himself of the memory and looked at her again. He shrugged one shoulder. "So do you need a hand writing your report?" he asked changing the subject. Leaning forward slightly he pulled a notepad from the waistband of his BDUs.

Sierra smiled and nodded as he pulled a pen from his top pocket. As she settled into her dictation of what happened on M8K-434, she thought about how lucky she was to get a 2IC like Cole; he was loyal, helpful and dedicated to her and the team like he was to military. He believed in her, that much she could tell, they all did; and she was grateful.

She just hoped she could live up to their expectations.

-----XXX-----

**A/N:** Now I know this chapter was short, but there is more to come. If you couldn't tell, this was set during _Childhood's End_. Please stay tuned for the next chapter set during _Poisoning the Well_.

Please review – I love it when you do!


	13. Transitions, Pt II Poisoning the Well

Hi everyone. This is the next part of _Transitions_ set just after _Poisoning the Well_. It is rather short, one of the shortest chapters in this story so far, so I'll be adding the next chapter as soon as possible. I've also scrapped the mailbox thing and I'm just replying to reviews as I get them. It seemed a little easier.

Anyway, please enjoy. And don't forget to review!

**-----Chapter 13 – Transitions, Part 2 – Poisoning the Well-----**

Standing on the balcony overlooking the western most pier of Atlantis, Sierra watched the setting sun cast its shadows across the rippling water. A soft breeze picked up from the north-west and ruffled the slowly lengthening locks of her wavy, dark hair. She'd taken to tying most of it back (at least the bits that were long enough) and flicking her fringe out of her eyes every few minutes. She knew it was driving John up the wall but she'd argued that in another few months it'd be long enough that she'd be able to tuck it behind her ears.

Currently, she flicked her hair out of her eyes and remembered how her mother had done the same. Mary Sheppard's hair had always been meticulously styled in natural fly-away wisps and curls that everyone from Hollywood wanted. But Mary never really cared much. She'd have it cut, then pull it back in a ponytail when she was horse riding or gardening, pushing her bangs out of the way with a dirt covered hand leaving mud on her face. Sierra remembered it used to frustrate her father as well, but she also knew that Patrick loved her all the more for it.

Sierra took a deep breath as the thought of her mother caused her a pain that she had dealt with years and years ago. But recent events had forced those memories back to the surface.

On a planet called Hoff, where John and his team had encountered a race of humans that were at a level of technology similar to Earth in the 1920's, thousands of people were dying because they had voted to use a weapon in the form of a drug to fight back against the Wraith, no matter the cost; the cost being fifty per cent of the population.

If Sierra thought kids sacrificing themselves at twenty-five was bad; this was worse. The sick, the dying, it all seemed so pointless in the grander scale of things. Eventually the Wraith would find out what the Hoffans had created and destroy them all because of the threat they posed. They would cease to exist.

Plus, this had brought back too many memories Sierra had dealt with a long time ago. She had left the planet the second John had told her the result of the vote. Watching one room full of people dying a slow and painful death was bad enough for her – she wasn't about to watch half a planet die. John and Beckett had been half an hour behind her.

Sierra had originally gone on that mission at her own request because her teammates had been bedridden by the Pegasus version of the flu and had to be quarantined, and Sierra was going nuts doing nothing. This had happened while she had been recovering from the stabbing incident last mission. Elizabeth had put one of the Russian captains in charge of her team for one mission and they'd come back feverish. Donning an uncomfortable hazmat suit, Sierra had visited her team and brought them all proper food from the Mess. But that had turned out to be a mistake when they weren't supposed to be eating solids for a very good reason. Carson had kicked her out of the Infirmary and she was supposed to be taking it easy, so she asked John if she could accompany him on his next mission. Now she was really wishing that she hadn't.

Standing out in the fresh air, with the sea, wind and setting sun, it was easy for her to forget everything she'd seen on Hoff. However, it left room for the memories of her mother to surface.

The sound of the door opening behind her, startled her out of her out-of-control reminiscing. She knew it wasn't John (though she couldn't explain how) and turned around to see who it was.

Cole stood near the doorway, reluctant to intrude on her personal space, wrapped in a thick blanket that was trailing on the floor and holding a box of tissues in his hand. His nose was red, his blue eyes a little dull and his hair a complete mess of fluff and pieces sticking out everywhere.

"Should you be up?" Sierra asked. "And are you still contagious?"

Cole shrugged and then sniffled. "Doctor Beckett says I should be right. Apparently this flu is only contagious for the first three days." He stepped up to the railing, standing with a foot between them, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. "Actually, Beckett didn't let me out. I snuck out."

Sierra smiled at him. "I figured that was the case," she said. "The scrubs kinda give you away."

Cole looked down at himself. He was still wearing the style-less red scrubs under the blanket. "Well, shoot," he said. Then he shrugged. "Oh well, as long as you don't turn me in I should be fine then." He looked hopefully at her and she laughed, looking back over the city.

"In truth," Cole continued, "I came to see how _you _were. I heard about Hoff. Beckett told me. He said that you took it all pretty hard." Sierra didn't say anything. She was suddenly reminded of the time her ex-CO was asking all the questions about her brother and her personal life, and she didn't want to think about that night at all – it was far too painful.

She felt Cole's eyes on her for a while before he looked back over the water. She really didn't want to talk about it, and thankfully Cole wasn't pushing. The sun had gone down by now and the stars had come out. The dusty, glowing arm of the spiral galaxy glistened off the water and cast its light on the city as the lights began to come on in the various piers.

Stars twinkled, Cole sniffled, the waves lapped against the city and Sierra felt Atlantis thrumming around her. The gentle breeze blew again and Sierra pulled the elastic from her hair and let the wind toss it about. Beside her, Cole cleared his throat of phlegm, spitting it over the railing.

"That's disgusting," Sierra said, wrinkling her nose.

Cole smiled slyly at her. "Better out than in," he said. There was more silence for a few more moments. Sierra sighed, absently flicking the elastic tie against her wrist.

"My mom died when I was twelve," she said quietly. She wasn't sure why she was telling Cole any of this; they were teammates but she still didn't know him very well. "A rare form of breast cancer. She got sick when I was ten and had been battling the disease for two years." The cool wind blew and Sierra shivered a little, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "She was so frail and weak by the end of it, but she refused to give up. She wanted to keep fighting, keep going, giving us hope that she would make it through.

"Eventually, Dad managed to convince her to let go," she continued. "I think it was killing him, too, seeing her like that. I hated going to the hospital but John refused to go without me, so I had to. Not that I didn't want to see Mom, but I hated seeing her sick. It was the most depressing place, the Oncology Ward. So many people in various stages of deterioration. Hoff just reminded me of that, is all."

Cole nodded absently as he absorbed her story. "My grandfather died the same way," he said. Sierra glanced over at him. He was huddled in the blanket, gazing out at the ocean the same way she had. "I was very close to my Grandfather. He raised me when my mother died. I was eighteen when he passed on from Pancreatic Cancer. And I can sympathize with you on that; watching him die was the hardest thing in my life." He looked over at Sierra and their eyes locked. She could see that it had been just as painful for him to watch his grandfather die as it had been for her to watch her mother weaken before her eyes.

She gave him a small smile and touched her hand to his shoulder through the blanket. "I'm sorry, Harrison," she said.

Cole's returning smile was sad. "Grandpapa used to call me 'Harry'."

Sierra nodded. "Harry it is, then." She then smiled wider at him. Turning back to face the ocean again she stepped closer to Cole so that their shoulder's were touching. They stood in silence for another half hour, until Sierra felt Cole shiver beneath the blanket. She steered him back inside and they walked together back to the Infirmary where Carson was waiting with a scowl and a couple of needles. Sierra accepted responsibility for Cole's escape and promised that it wouldn't happen again. Cole nodded at her from behind the Scot's back, smiling gratefully. Beckett then promptly banished her from the Infirmary and sent her on her way.

With nothing else to do, Sierra found herself wandering the dark halls of the city until late into the night, inadvertently ending up in front of John's quarters at around 22:00. Heaving a great sigh, she knocked on the door, having it open a second later. John looked about ready to go to bed, and his lights were out, but he let her in anyway. They sat together on the couch, talking about Mom for hours, before John insisted she stay the night and offered her the bed. She refused and curled up next to him on the couch. With her legs stretched across his lap, she listened to him reminiscing and telling her about all the things he'd loved about their mother. She fell asleep with a slight smile on her lips.

-----XXX-----

A/N: next chapter coming real soon.


	14. Transitions, Pt III Underground

Hi again. The next installment for _Transitions_, _Underground_. Please enjoy.

**-----Chapter 14 – Transitions, Part 3 – Underground-----  
**Sierra rolled to the side as Cole's Bantos stick slammed into the mat inches from where her head had been a moment ago. Kicking her legs up into a crouch and shoving herself to her feet she jabbed at her teammate, catching him in the stomach. He grunted with the blow before deflecting her clumsy follow through from her other hand. They spun apart, Cole stumbling with his footwork and growling in frustration. The sticks felt heavy and foreign in Sierra's hands. Needless to say, neither of them was very good at the fighting style Teyla was trying to teach them.

With a sigh of frustration, Sierra straightened and called for a time out. Cole seemed to slump in relief, tossed his practice sticks aside and picked up his water bottle and towel.

"We just need more practice," she assured him. He cocked an eyebrow at her skeptically before taking a large swig from his water bottle. Yeah, that probably wasn't going to help, she agreed privately. Picking up her own water bottle she took a seat under the stained window in the gym. Glancing across the room, she saw her other two teammates spotting each other on the weights. Other than themselves, they were the only ones in the gym.

It was a day off for them, Sierra and her team. It had been over a month since Cole, Stackhouse and Markham had been released from the Infirmary with Pegasus Fever, as Beckett was calling it, and had been on two standard recon missions since. For the first time in a while, there had been no incidents on their missions and Elizabeth had decided to reward them with five days stood down. However, there was very little to do on the base, so they had taken to inhabiting the gym after hours.

Just the day before, Sierra had managed to coerce Teyla into teaching herself and her team some moves of the fighting style she was very adept at. Stackhouse and Markham had watched the demonstration and bailed rather spectacularly, claiming they'd forgotten to do their laundry. That had left Cole and Sierra to endure Teyla's tough tutelage. Sierra had heard John complaining occasionally about the brutal treatment the Athosian dealt him, and after experiencing it first hand, she vowed never to rag on him again.

Next to her, Cole threw down his towel and water bottle, and stretched his calf muscles against the bench. Subtly letting herself watch him for a moment she recalled how she had laughed at the shorts he had chosen to wear, compared to her sweatpants. Now she didn't think it was such a bad idea.

He had very nice legs. Perfect, toned muscles; overly pale, white skin; thick, curly blond hairs. His ankles were a little skinny, and it looked as though he'd had reconstructive knee surgery at some point, but all in all, they _were _nice legs. Taking a gulp from her bottle, she forced her eyes elsewhere.

Cole then stood straight again, shaking out his lumber limbs. "Would you care to try a bit of hand-to-hand for a bit instead?" he asked.

Sierra's eyes darted back to him, but they were distracted; Cole had taken to stretching his shoulders and was pulling his elbow behind his head, causing the hem of his shirt to rise above the waist band of his shorts. This action revealed a nicely toned and ridged stomach with a trail of darker hair splashed up to his navel. Suddenly realizing she was staring, she forced herself to look back to his face.

"Um, sure," she said as confidently as possible. Setting her water bottle aside, she stood and plucked her t-shirt from her sweaty back and shoulders. Blowing her arrant bangs from her eyes, she stalked him on the training mat, taking up a fighting pose opposite him. "I hope you know what you're in for," she jested, flicking her head.

Cole smirked at her, wiping the sweat from his chin with his sweat band. "Don't worry, ma'am," he said. "I know how to keep my eyes on my opponent."

Sierra narrowed her eyes. That was _definitely_ a reference to the time she had fought John and ended up on her ass after she had beaten him already. Unfortunately, everyone on the base knew about that. Even Elizabeth had given her crap about it on Ladies Night three weeks.

"Let's see what you got," she goaded, darting quickly toward him, jabbing her first blow at his shoulder and dashing back again. The blow didn't land, but it put him on the defensive right away.

Sierra was a little smaller than Cole, and was lighter on her feet, so she darted at him again and again, dancing just out of reach each time he tried to make a grab for her. Smirking at him, she dodged inside the reach of his arms and, jabbing him in the ribs first, took hold of one of his outstretched arms, pulled it behind his back and knocked the back of his knees. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, with Sierra leaning heavily over him.

"Yield?" she puffed in his ear.

"Yes, ma'am," Cole gritted out. Sierra chuckled lightly before releasing him and helping the lieutenant to his feet. Cole's face was carefully schooled, but she could tell that he wouldn't underestimate her again. A quick glance over at their other teammates showed that they had stopped in their weight training to watch the bouts unabashedly.

Sierra turned her focus back to Cole who was readying himself for another go at her. She mirrored his stance, aware that she had shown him just what she had in her.

Cole circled around her, seeming to try and find an opening in her defense. They circled for a moment, before Cole rushed at her. Sierra, her reflexes sharpened by years of flying planes, ducked around him as he came at her, intending to get a shot at his unprotected back. But he was prepared for that and brought his elbow down on her shoulder as she passed by, sending her spinning away. She stopped before she reached the end of the mat and turned to face him in time to see his fist come for her face. Again she ducked out of the way, throwing up her arm in time to catch his other fist before it landed in her stomach.

Cole was a lot faster than someone of his build should be, and Sierra was hard pressed to deflect all his blows _and _get her own blows in to turn this fight so that _he _was the one on the defensive. The best thing was that he wasn't holding back, and her opinion of her 2IC went up a notch.

Sierra grunted in pain as three well-placed strikes slipped past her defenses; one to her cheek, and two to her solar plexus. She danced out of his reach while she caught her breath again. Sweat trickled down her face, stinging on the small cut just below her eye. Sucking in a breath, she prepared herself for Cole's next attack.

He came at her with a slight smirk on his face. Sierra frowned with determination and knocked aside his left handed jab at her catching his other hand as his came for her kidneys. But his sweat made his arm slippery, and at the same time that she struck out at his stomach, his arm came free of her grip. Quick as lightening, he caught her arm in the same manner she'd had his and, with a free hand in the middle of her chest, flipped her onto her back, slamming down onto the mat, while using her own arm as the pivot.

From her position on the floor she looked up at Cole as he leaned over her. "Yield?" he asked pleasantly arrogant.

Sierra grumbled up at him. Smirking, he helped her to her feet.

"How about this," she said, bending over to rest her hands on her knees while she caught her breath; she wasn't as young as she used to be. "Two out of three buys the other a drink." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stackhouse and Markham shake hands, no doubt on some kind of personal bet involving herself and Cole.

The lieutenant cocked his head, and said, "We don't have a bar here, captain."

She shrugged her shoulder. "So? It's a figure of speech," she said, rolling her shoulders to loosen them. "Come on, what d'you reckon?"

Cole tipped his head slightly, agreeing to the wager. "You're on," he said, raising his hands in front of him in a fighting stance and letting Sierra take the offensive.

They circled, yet again, and Sierra struck out at Cole, every now and then feeling one land on his sensitive spots. Something told her that Cole was playing her, letting those few through to give her a false sense that she had one up on him.

If she wanted to win this, then she had to tread carefully. Cole was strong and fast, and more dangerous than he looked. But she was just as quick and had a handful more years of experience behind her.

The bout was intense, quick-paced and forced Sierra to concentrate fiercely. Within minutes she was covered in sweat, her muscles working overtime to keep up with the pace that Cole had set without her realizing it. She could feel herself tiring and could see that the same was happening to Cole. And both of them knew that they couldn't hold out forever. Sierra realized with amusement that Cole must have decided the best way to beat her was to tire her out.

Sierra stepped around him again, ducking under Cole's arm, trying to get at his back; but unfortunately she'd used that move before and Cole anticipated it. Spinning around after her, he wrapped both of his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides and compressing the air from her lungs in his strangle-hold from behind. Sierra roared in frustration, pushed both her feet off the floor and throwing her weight up until Cole was holding the whole of her body weight. She hoped the sudden additional weight would overbalance her opponent. Cole would either topple over backwards or be forced to step back to compensate. Which is, unfortunately, exactly what he did.

Sierra grunted, before hurling her feet toward the floor again and throwing her upper body after it, hoping to unbalance him that way instead. The moves they were now using weren't exactly standard fighting techniques, but they seemed to have crossed the fine line between training and grappling some time back.

Her feet hit the floor, but one also landed on Cole's foot, pulling a pain-filled grunt from him. Sierra curled into a tight ball again, but he didn't let her go; his body curled down over hers, trapping her firmly against him. In a slightly dirty move, she threw her head back. She felt her skull connect with Cole's face followed quickly by his frustrated howl of pain. His grip on her relaxed slightly and she managed to break free from him. But he was still quick, even if his eyes were watering slightly.

His hand caught her upper arm _and_ her strike to his head, pulling both her arms down to her sides, trapping her once again.

_Damn it!_ Sierra thought, frustrated that she simply couldn't get away. Thinking quickly she flicked a foot to hook around one of his ankles. Leaning in toward him and pushing with her arms she managed to overbalance him and he fell backwards. Unfortunately, Cole hadn't released hold of her arms so she was pulled over, too.

Landing heavily on top of him, Cole huffed in pain as her knee accidentally found his crouch.

"Oh!" she cried out. "I'm so sorry – I didn't – Argh!"

Her apology was cut short as Cole suddenly rolled under her, flipping both of them so she was on her back, pinned beneath his weight. She was suddenly aware of how… intimate their position was.

He was heavy, she hadn't expected that. Drawing in air to her lungs, she felt his torso press firmer against her and she suddenly appreciated how contoured those abs of his were. His hands pinned her wrists either side of her head and she had lost fair and square. All because she had lost her concentration again. She huffed in frustration just as his cobalt-blue eyes met hers.

Suddenly, those eyes looked like someone else's and she found herself lost in the emotions that played there. Another set of pale, blue eyes became overlaid with Cole's and Sierra's memory sent her to a hospital room that smelt of antiseptic and 'get well' bouquets, and an all too familiar pain settled itself in her chest. Her breath caught and she bit harder on her lip; anything to distract her from the aching hole in her chest.

Using all her strength, and a well placed shove from her knee, she pushed Cole's weight from her and rolled onto her hands and knees. Pressing her face into the vinyl cover on the mat, she huddled in a small ball, curling inward on herself. She refused to let the tears in her throat progress any further than that and forced herself to take a deep breath.

"Captain?" she heard Cole say just to her side, moving closer to her. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, letting his British accent remind her of who exactly he _wasn't_. She breathed deeply another few times, waiting until the pain was just a dull ache before raising her head to look up at Cole. Markham and Stackhouse had hurried over and were standing over the lieutenant's shoulder, looking concerned.

She nodded at them and waved them off, getting shakily to her feet. Picking up her towel and gym bag, she turned back to Cole. "Looks like I owe you a drink, Lieutenant," she said with a smile she didn't feel. She didn't wait for his reply before turning and leaving the gym.

Once she was safely inside the confines of her quarters, she let herself fall apart. It had been months since the pain had been at this magnitude – she'd been able to quash it down every day, but it was always there like a splinter under her nail. It had become a familiar pain that she had grown to live with.

But that glimpse of _his _eyes in Cole's dredged up all those feelings she had worked so hard to bury. Sitting on the floor, in the middle of her room, Sierra wrapped her arms around her knees and just let the tidal pull of need and guilt wash over her.

Memories swarmed around her; the main subject of all of them: Cameron Mitchell and the very few times they had been together. Why that one glimpse had drawn such a strong reaction from her body, was a mystery to her. Sure, she had finally accepted that she may be in love with him, but she had also accepted that she may never see him again, nor be with him if they ever were to return to Earth. Accepting this fact had been followed by a couple of sleepless nights and hours of depression.

It took her a while to pull herself together and push the pain back down into its steel box that sprang open every night when she went to bed. By the time she was composed enough for human interaction, she registered that someone was trying to get her attention on the radio.

"This is Sheppard," she said in a hollow voice.

"_Captain_," came Peter Grodan's voice, etched with concern. "_We've been calling you for three minutes now. We thought something had happened_–"

"I'm fine, Grodan," she said, standing and stretching her cramped limbs. She hadn't stretch out her muscles after she bolted from the gym to have her episode in private, so she was going to cramp like hell.

"_Ma'am, Major Sheppard has asked for your assistance on his mission to the Genii homeworld_." Peter then filled her in on her brother's plan while she changed into her uniform.

"OK," Sierra said once he had finished. Listening to his voice had somehow calmed her down a lot. "Thanks, Peter. I'll be there in two minutes."

Picking up her vest and berretta where they were slung across the back of her chair, she headed directly to the jumper bay, where her team was waiting at the hatch of Jumper 2.

As she approached, her teammates stopped their hushed conversation and watched her come towards them. She nodded grimly to them as they saluted as she passed them. While she may have gotten her pain out of the way, it always left her void of all emotion for a while.

Striding into Jumper 2, she took the pilot's seat and started the pre-flight checks. Cole joined her in the cockpit, taking the co-pilot's chair, while Stackhouse and Markham took the bench seats in the back with an extra four marines, just in case.

Once they were cleared for flight, the jumper descended into the Gate Room where they proceeded through the open 'gate to the Genii Homeworld, where they waited for the Genii to betray them.

-----XXX-----

It was quiet in the cockpit, with the doors to the rear compartment shut. Sierra could hear the quiet mummer of conversation through the bulkhead. Beside her in the co-pilot's seat, Cole watched the country scenery out of the front view screen. In the short time they had been sitting in the jumper, waiting for John's return from their mission to the Wraith Hive ship, Sierra had managed to reign in the maelstrom of emotions that had been released barely an hour before.

She knew Cole was trying very hard not to glance at her every five minutes in concern, but she simply ignored him. Eventually he got sick of it.

"Captain," he said with a tinge of frustration in his voice. "May I ask you a difficult question?"

Sierra was pretty sure she knew what the question was going to be about but she nodded anyway.

Cole was silent for a moment before he finally voiced his query. "What happened during our training session," he began, "Did that have anything to do with Antarctica?"

Sierra knew that what he was really asking was, "Did it have anything to do with the CO you risked everything to save?" She contemplated the question for a moment, wondering if she should answer, and how much she should tell him. Cole was a good guy, she knew this, but she didn't really know yet if she could trust him with the secret she'd kept buried for months.

The silence stretch on and Sierra glanced over at her 2IC. She saw genuine concern in his face, his blue eyes watching her like a hawk. Taking a huge gamble, she finally answered him.

"Yes," she said simply, her voice very soft.

"With all due respect, ma'am," Cole said, swiveling the chair toward her slightly. "May I ask what brought on your… incident… in the gym?"

Sierra sighed and looked over at him, her eyes on his. "Your eyes. His are blue as well. Not the same shade, but… it was enough." She looked away again to the view out the front. She chewed on the inside of her lip wondering if she'd done the wrong thing.

That time on their first mission in Pegasus, Sierra had been extra careful not to reveal to Cole that there was anything going on with her and Mitchell. She snorted softly and shook her head; recent events had made her sloppy.

Cole was silent for a long while, and Sierra could all but see the cogs turning in his brain. "I'm sorry," he said.

Sierra blinked and stared at him. "Why?"

"I didn't mean to – I mean, it wasn't intentional," the lieutenant stuttered. "I never meant to remind you of… I only wanted to–"

"It's OK, Harry," Sierra said, cutting him off. She cleared her throat. "I'm normally able to compartmentalize my personal life from my professional. Today, I kinda let it slip a little." Cole nodded. He seemed to understand what she meant.

"Look," she said, glancing over at him again. "Can we keep this between us, please?" Cole looked up at her, their eyes locking again. "I'd also rather not talk about it again. Like it never happened."

"Of course, ma'am," he replied. He smiled at her lightly, comfortingly. "Your secret is safe with me."

She smiled lightly at him, but an uneasy feeling settled in the bottom of her stomach. She had been lucky so far, but she could tell that one day her luck was going to run out.

-----XXX-----

A/N: I'm not that good at fighting sequences, so I hope I've got it close to right and that I've gotten the fights across OK. Please, let me know what you think! Cheers.


	15. Transitions, Pt IV Home

Hi all, I'm back. I believe it's been a while since I updated last and I hope you haven't given up on me yet. This is the last of the Transitions parts before the mid-season episodes. This one is set just after _Home_. And just for **jasminesmommy** there are some John/Sierra moments. I hope you all like it.

**-----Chapter 15 – Transitions, Part IV – Home-----  
**"It was all just so… _real_," John breathed to Sierra as they sat together in the Mess Hall. It was late afternoon and the sun was just touching the ocean as it sunk toward the horizon. The sound of waves lapping against the piers drifted in through the open windows and doors while a gentle breeze fluttered about the space.

John and his team, accompanied by Elizabeth, had just returned from a mission this morning on a planet where the atmosphere contained a mist that was organic – meaning that each particle in the mist was a living organism. On a previous scouting mission, McKay, having noticed the energy the Living Mist was giving off, believed that it would be enough for one trip back to Earth.

The frenzy this news created was substantial and moral was high for the few hours the team was away. But what everyone hadn't expected was that the mist was _sentient_. The Stargate had activated again, hours after they left, to disgorge John, Teyla, Ford, McKay and Elizabeth, all in various mindsets. John was subtly livid; Rodney was put-off; Ford was disturbed; Teyla was confused; and Elizabeth was rather depressed.

It was early morning when they returned, having spent twenty-four hours on M5S-224, unconscious and without food or water. Needless to say they were all ravenous (and desperate to use the bathroom) and a little shaken.

Sierra had walked into the Mess for breakfast to find all five of them digging into the buffet the Mess staff provided. Despite the flurry of cutlery and the clatter of knives and forks on the metal trays, they weren't speaking a word.

Joining them at the table, Sierra waited gingerly until one of them broke the silence.

Slowly, one by one, they recounted each of their own experiences in the mist. According to Rodney, who had spoken first, the Living Mist had invaded the consciousness of each of them and made then live twenty-four hours in a virtual world inside their own minds. McKay shuddered as he spoke.

They had all experienced something different, primarily based on their own memories, save for Teyla; having never been to Earth before, she had shared in John's mental reality.

They had all been tricked into believing that the _Prometheus_ was out of commission and that there was no way of getting home.

John's reality, however, had been a little different. And more disturbing for him.

"I saw Dex and Mitch," John said softly after a long silence, jerking Sierra back to the present. She had just lifted a fork-full of meatloaf into her mouth; she froze and looked at him. He was staring at his plate with a rather lost look in his eyes. He glanced up to see her staring at him before dropping his eyes again.

Sitting back, Sierra chewed slowly while watching her brother. Mitchell Grey and Dexter Monroe had been in their unit when they had been stationed in Afghanistan during the Gulf. Mitch, Dex and John had been the Three Musketeers, the Three Amigos, the three trouble-makers. Sure, whenever John and Sierra were in the same place, bad shit happened on its own. But when those three got together they were the ones causing all the trouble.

Mitch, Dex and John were no doubt the best pilots in the unit. John was a chopper pilot for black hawks, and other assault craft, but the four of them had been flying with Med-Evac choppers at the time. Sierra flew with John, Mitch with Dex. She remembered the day they died well.

They had gone into Kabul to extract a group of wounded marines. Mitch and Dex had gone in first and as soon at their chopper had touched the ground it was hit by a missile, killing the two pilots, all the passengers, plus three of the marines on the ground. John and Sierra, who had been only a few seconds behind them, had been forced to pull back and abandon the pick-up for all the shrapnel and bullets flying in every direction. The remaining marines on the ground had then been swamped by enemy soldiers and killed. No one in their chopper spoke the entire flight back to base.

The whole thing had shaken John pretty badly; not that he showed it. But Sierra had detected a definite increase in his recklessness. It had continued like that for weeks, until their CO had pulled her aside and told her to talk to him. So she did, and he had calmed down considerably after that.

But he had also requested to be reassigned to anything that wasn't rescue choppers. And Dex and Mitch were eventually forgotten.

John was the kind of man who wore the weight of the world on his shoulders. It didn't matter if there was nothing he could have done to save his friends he still blamed himself for their deaths. Even after all these years, Sierra could see that it was still a huge burden to him.

Leaning forward again, Sierra said, "Hey, why don't you come to our Poker game tonight?" She really didn't want him to be alone tonight. John seemed to consider it for a moment. He hadn't yet lifted his eyes from his plate.

"Maybe not, 'Erra," he said finally. "I kinda just wanna be alone tonight."

Just what she feared. Well, at least there wasn't much alcohol around for him to ruin himself on. Maybe she'd get someone to look in on him later.

"OK, fine," she said, twisting her mouth to conceal her concern. Standing she looked at her watch; she was going to be late. "Make sure you call me if you wanna talk, alright?" she didn't leave the Mess until he agreed.

-----XXX-----

Night had finally fallen over the city when Sierra knocked on Markham's door. Her backpack was filled with all snacks she had managed to pilfer for the Mess in the dead of night, that the zipper had failed to close.

The door opened to reveal Cole in his civvies, holding a glass of what smelt like apple cider.

"Captain," he greeted. "Nice haul," he said gesturing to her overstuffed backpack.

"Thanks," she replied as he let her into Markham's quarters. "It's amazing what you can acquire from the stores in the middle of the night. It also helps to have the fear of God in the kitchen staff."

Cole laughed. Markham's quarters were the same size as hers, and all the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room to allow for a round, four-seater table in the middle of the room. Two of the chairs surrounding it were occupied by Sierra's other teammates, Stackhouse and Markham. They greeted her enthusiastically and admired her bounty of foods, though she thought they were a little _too_ enthusiastic. Then she noticed they were dinking the same cider that Cole was.

She pointed to the lieutenant's drink. "Is that alcoholic?" she asked.

Cole shrugged. "Well, there was no label on the bottles my old roommate gave me before I left. I'm guessing that he made it himself, so you never know."

Sierra shrugged in turn and picked up a disposable plastic cup from a table by the door. "Then I'll have some of that." Cole smiled and filled her cup with the sweet smelling, golden liquid as she emptied her backpack onto the same table.

"Hey," Stackhouse called loudly. "Are we gonna play cards or what?"

Sierra mock frowned at him. "That's 'ma'am' to you, Sergeant. And lay off the cider." He saluted her lazily with a smile. Taking her cup from Cole, she took a seat at the table. "So, who deals?"

They played for hours, eating and drinking way too much cider. Somewhere around 21:00 she took a bathroom break, calling Ford and Teyla, asking them to check on John. They reported back ten minutes later that they had managed to drag him off to the Rec Room to watch _Terminator_. Smiling, Sierra returned to the game with renewed energy.

Somewhere along the line her teammates managed to convince her to play Strip Poker. She didn't let on that she was rather adept at it. Two hours later, she sat at the table, fully clothed and only missing her boots, with Markham, Cole and Stackhouse all rather humiliated and sitting in only their underwear.

Finally, once Stackhouse had fallen out of his chair for the third time, Sierra called it a night. The hour was nearing 01:00 and she knew they would all have headaches tomorrow.

Collecting into her backpack her winnings and her remaining snack foods, she waited to make sure Stackhouse got to his feet OK. It took both Cole and Markham to re-dress the sergeant and walk him back to his own room. As it was on the way to hers, Sierra followed along, trying to keep the hallway straight.

After they had safely gotten Stackhouse back to his room and into bed, Markham flipped Sierra and Cole a wave and headed back to his room. Laughing quietly and trying not to disturb anyone else, Sierra let Cole walk her back to her room. At her door she turned to him to say goodnight, but he beat her too it. He darted forward and kissed her full on the lips. It wasn't a long kiss or a particularly romantic kiss (at least not for her), but Sierra suddenly got the feeling she had been missing something in the last few months.

"Um, sorry," Cole said, flushing a bright red and dropping his eyes to the floor. "I… didn't really mean to do that. I think I may have had too much cider tonight."

"Ah, it's OK," Sierra stuttered. She was already wondering how to put him down gently.

"Look, Captain," Cole said. Despite a slight slurring of his words he had regained his confidence a little and looked up at her again. "I really like you… and I was wondering if you would like to… perhaps… have dinner with me one evening?"

Sierra was so surprised that she couldn't help the immediate 'no' that leaked from her lips. She bit her lips together to make sure any other words didn't leave her mouth. She cursed the goddamn alcohol for making her brain fuzzy.

Cole was looking at her with a shocked and hurt expression. "Do you want to think about it first before you completely reject me?"

Sierra bit back an alcohol-fuel barb. This was her teammate, her second in command – she didn't want to alienate him too much.

"Look, Cole," she started, polite as possible. "I like you too, but not in the way you want me to. You're a great officer and you're a top notch 2IC. But – I don't want to have dinner with you."

Cole's face went blank with surprise for a moment, before anger flashed across it. "Oh, right, I see," he said suddenly bitter. "So, you'll shag your last CO, but you won't even go on a date with me?"

Sierra bristled. So he had figured it out after all. She was sure there were some pretty tasty rumors floating around about her and Mitchell, but it depended on what you wanted to believe. They ranged from Sierra and her ex-CO being secretly related to them being secretly married on some alien planet. But Cole's words had rubbed her the wrong way.

"Watch yourself, _lieutenant_," Sierra warned. She was aware that Cole's voice was rising in volume and the empty halls tended to echo.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am," Cole said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I wouldn't want to start a rumor that you fucked Mitchell. Why did you do it, by the way? Was it to get a promotion? Or was he just a good lay?"

Sierra was quivering with the effort of holding herself back. She wanted to lunge across at him and beat the living shit out him just for saying those things about Mitchell. She also couldn't believe her ears – why was he saying this to her? What had brought this out of him?

Then she caught a wiff of cider on his breath and she remembered all the alcohol they'd consumed. And she had never known how mean a drunk Cole was. That and the fact he seemed to be very angry she'd turned him down and yet slept with Mitchell.

"Walk away now, Cole," she warned, her voice low and dangerous. But he ignored her. Taking a step closer to her, he put his hand on the wall near her head.

"So, was he any good? Say, anything in comparison to that major in D.C? Does the name Evan Lorne ring any bells?"

Sierra didn't even think about how he knew about Lorne, she just threw her fist right into Cole's face as the memory of pain and guilt flared in her chest. The drunken lieutenant staggered back and fell on his ass. Clutching his face, he slowly stood. Sierra tensed and prepared for him to take a swing at her, but then she saw the look of horror that passed across what she could see of Cole's face. He looked up at her and Sierra saw a look of shame that came to his eyes. She relaxed. He wasn't going to attack her. And he hadn't meant to say those things.

Without another word, he staggered down the hall and around the corner.

At that moment, her radio crackled to life, startling her out of her shock.

"_Sierra?_"

Reaching up, she touched her radio set. "Yes, John?"

There was a long pause on the other side of the line. "_Are you still up?_"

Sighing, Rahni turned to the door across the hall from hers and palmed it open. John sat on the bed, a hand raised to his ear piece and with a half-finished beer in his other. She frowned wondering where the beer had come from.

John's eyebrows creased in the middle. "How did you –?"

Sierra gestured over her shoulder to where she and Cole had stood a moment ago. "You didn't hear all that outside your door just a moment ago?" Her brother shook his head. Sierra sighed with a mixture of surprise and relief. She didn't really need to deal with John's reaction as well as what just happened with Cole.

Sighing, Sierra explained a little. "Cole walked me back to my room and we got into a bit of an argument."

"Right," John replied. Sierra walked over to him with a slight drunken stagger and took the beer from his hands, sculling the rest. "Hey!" he cried indigently. "That was mine! And since when do you drink beer?"

Sierra burped loudly and tossed the empty bottle into the trash can next to his desk. "Since last year," she replied and flopped down onto the bed next to John. With a sigh she stretched out and lay back on the bed with her hands behind her head. John frowned down at her.

"Are you drunk?"

"Yep," she said immediately. John was silent for a moment before looking over his shoulder at her.

"Is there any more?" he asked conspiratorially.

Sierra laughed. "Oh no, John. You're not getting any while you're in this mood."

John frowned at her. "What mood?"

"Survivor's Guilt mood. That's what you wanted to talk about, right?" John sighed. "Hey, they were my friends too," she added with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

John was silent for a long moment. "It was still my fault," he said.

Sierra let out a frustrated groan and struggled to sit up. "Don't start this again. I really don't wanna have to slap you like last time."

Her brother gave a humorless snort of laughter. "You enjoyed it last time – don't lie." Sierra made a fist and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Really, John. Don't start blaming yourself again. There was nothing you could do."

But he was already shaking his head in disagreement. "I should have paid more attention to the instruments. I should have taken more notice to the surroundings. I should have–"

_Slap!_ Sierra had raised a hand and slapped it across John's face, and none too gently either. He stopped midsentence and looked at her, gob-smacked. Sierra raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I did warn you," she said sharply. "All this 'shoulda-woulda-coulda' crap is not helping, alright. We've been over this – years ago. _Stop. Blaming. Yourself._"

John lowered his eyes and twisted his mouth in disdain. She could tell that he was hating himself right now, and still blaming himself.

"Stop it!" she cried at him. "Don't make me slap you again." John smiled a little at that. "Seriously, I will," Sierra continued in a mock-serious voice. "I'll put you over my knee and spank you into next week!" John's smile widened more and he looked at Sierra with proper mirth in his gaze. She smiled back at him. "See, that wasn't so hard."

John let out a small laugh. "Thanks, 'Erra," he said softly, bumping her knee with his.

Sierra stood and patted his shoulder again. "You're welcome. I hate seeing you like that. You accept too much responsibility for things that are out of your control."

John gave her a smirk. "Boy, if Dad could hear you say that – he'd die of laughter."

Sierra smiled back. It was probably true. She leant down and kissed John on the forehead and then returned to her quarters. If John had one drawback in his personality it was that he shouldered too much, much more than was required on him. She knew he tortured himself about it all the time, about the lives he hadn't been able to save and she often wished he'd accept that those people couldn't have been saved no matter what and move on. But John was John and it would only happen when pigs grew wings.

Sighing in resignation, Sierra dimmed the lights, kicked off her boots and crawled into her bed. As she closed her eyes, words floated on her memory like the hiss of a snake… _So, was he any good? Why did you do it, by the way? So, you'll shag your last CO, but you won't even go on a date with me?_

Snapping her eyes open again, Sierra couldn't help but flinch as Cole's words flitted around her head. She knew why she'd done it, she knew that night had been wonderful, and she knew _why _she didn't want to have dinner with her 2IC: she didn't want a repeat of previous events.

She was going to have to talk to Cole. They had to sort it out because they worked together and she had to know that she could trust him watching her six. And there weren't a lot of personnel she could choose from to replace him if it came to that.

Sighing again, Sierra turned over onto her other side and resolved to find Cole within the next few days and hash it out with him. It was either that or ruin something that was actually working pretty well. Damn it – why did being an officer have to be so complicated.

-----XXX-----

Cole had been avoiding her for three days. Every time she entered a room that he was in, the lieutenant would flush bright red, end whatever conversation he'd been having and practically bolt from the room. Sierra was getting sick of it. She wanted to talk to him about what happened on Poker Night but he always fled before she could catch him.

So she figured, seeing as the gym had only one exit (a fire hazard, everyone knew but there was no way around it), she'd corner him there. Cole had taken to positioning himself so that he could always see the door and able to make a quick getaway. She had found out that Cole was intending to work out that afternoon, strolled into the gym and hid behind some equipment, waiting for her 2IC to arrive.

It was bloody pathetic that they'd been reduced to this. They were grown adults for Christ's sake! She shouldn't have to stake out the gym just to talk to the man.

Yes, OK, she agreed that what he had done and said warranted the lieutenant's fear of her, but in Sierra's opinion it wasn't something that couldn't be forgiven. She understood his frustrations: he had asked her out and had been turned down, when Mitchell hadn't gotten either. And if anyone in the city was to believe the rumors (and some of them _were _true) then anyone could assume that Sierra _wasn't_ one to abide by anti-frat rules. She also couldn't believe she'd missed something like this.

As Sierra waited she pursed her lips in frustration at the reputation she had built for herself. But most of all she was surprised as hell that those rumors hadn't found themselves to John's ears. She knew very well that John didn't pay any attention to idle rumors, much less care what anyone had to say about himself. But Sierra was very different in that way. She hated rumors, she hated gossip. She hated people talking about her behind her back and she absolutely loathed the subtle (and sometimes not o subtle) attention. She had no idea where _that_ mentality had stemmed from as neither of her parents nor brothers had that attitude. And if only John knew what some people had to say about him!

At that moment, Cole walked into the gym with a towel draped over his shoulder. He cast a wary glance around the empty gym before settling himself down on the nearest bench-press that faced the doorway. Sierra counted to ten before stepping out from the shadows. Cole didn't notice her until she stood directly over him; he paused in his presses, his face bleaching of colour, except from the brilliant bruise that had formed under his right eye, and set the bar back on its rest. Slowly he sat up and looked at Sierra, who stood with her arms crossed over her chest and and eyebrow cocked at him. Cole sighed in acceptance.

"You want my letter of resignation?" the lieutenant asked. Sierra blinked for a moment.

"Why the hell would I want that?" she asked.

Cole shrugged and picked up his towel again. "Because of what I said Poker Night? And the way I've been avoiding you since then?"

Sierra frowned at him. "Avoiding the topic was childish and stupid, Cole. You know that. We're both adults and should've talked it out." The young Brit looked down at his lap, properly chastised. Sierra's expression softened.

"As for what you said the other night," she continued. "I understand that you didn't mean all that."

Cole glanced up at her again. "I do apologize for what I said, ma'am. I – I didn't mean any of it, I swear."

Sierra held up a hand to silence him. "I know that, Cole. And I'm sorry I shot you down so quickly. I should have thought that through better."

Cole twisted his mouth into an embarrassed smile. "Yeah, about that, ma'am." He stood and faced her properly. "Look, I do like you, and that part i meant; about what I said about dinner. But all that other stuff –"

Sierra nodded. "I know. And thank you for the offer, Lieutenant, but I would have declined anyway." She paused for a moment. "You were right." Cole gazed at her with a puzzled glance. Sierra looked around the deserted gym to make sure they were still alone. "I haven't told anyone this. But you were right about me and Mitchell." Cole's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out," she added with a small smile.

Cole cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm very sorry about that, ma'am. I will never breathe a word of it to anyone."

"I know that, Harry. And I'm eternally grateful for that." She gave him a reassuring smile. "So, I expect to see you bright and early at the briefing tomorrow; oh-eight hundred."

He snapped a salute. "Yes, ma'am." Sierra smiled back and headed for the door. Before she got all the way there a thought occurred to her. She turned back to Cole.

"One other thing," she said. "How do you know about Lorne in Washington?"

"Oh," Cole said, sitting back down on the bench press. "I was having a drink with him that day in the Officer's Club."

Sierra frowned. "You know him?" she asked.

"Yeah," Cole replied, frowning back. "He works at the SGC – I thought you knew that." Sierra shook her head, feeling a little dazed. "I thought you knew him," the lieutenant continued. "Otherwise you wouldn't have left the bar with him so quickly. You didn't seem the type."

Sierra nodded, only understanding what he had said vaguely. Leaving the gym without another word or a backward glance, Sierra headed to her quarters. Once inside she banged her head against the wall twice; once for her stupidity and again for her… stupidity. How could she have let herself get so buried in broken anti-frat regs that she couldn't see daylight? If anyone else found out about her and Lorne and the fact that he worked for the SGC then she was screwed. Beyond screwed. She would be back on the JAG's witness stand being court marshaled again and this time there'd be no general or president that could help her.

In other words, she was screwed.

-----XXX-----

**A/N:** I hope you all liked it. Please stay tuned for the next chapter set during _The Storm _and _The Eye_. Now, please be kind and please review.


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